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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23616892">Closest To The Sun</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toward_The_Horizon/pseuds/Toward_The_Horizon'>Toward_The_Horizon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>ATEEZ (Band), K-pop</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Circus, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Circus, Dreams vs. Reality, Dreamwalking, Fantasy elements, Magic, kpop</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 16:54:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>50,859</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23616892</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toward_The_Horizon/pseuds/Toward_The_Horizon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Hongjoong finds himself in an unfamiliar world, standing before a towering metal gate, and is lead through a crimson fair ground by two grinning boys. One is a silent, shadowed presence, a tuft of white in his dark hair, his features too sharp, his colours too bright. The other is snake-like, all quick, fluid movements, a wide grin never leaving his face, his hair an oil-spill confusion of colours. They introduce Hongjoong to this new world, where he meets it's mysterious creator, Mars, and wakes up instantly.</p><p>The world, and the boys, return to him in his dreams, and Hongjoong grows to anticipate these visits, to the strange land he now finds himself in whenever he closes his eyes, as dreams start to bleed into reality, and the people at his school- a reclusive boy surrounded with dark rumours who watches Hongjoong from afar; a  charming dark haired boy that's paying more attention to Hongjoong than ever, and the sweet, introverted boy in his science classes who other students avoid as if he's not there at all- seem to know more than they're letting on.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jeong Yunho/Kang Yeosang, Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>130</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Gates</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Seonghwa's nickname is Mars and that's too cool not to write about, so...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hongjoong stops before a gate. </p><p>He can’t see anything between the golden bars that tower to the clouds, even as he knows he should be able to glimpse something there. Whatever lies beyond is hidden in thin air, because he’s on this side of the gate, and not the other, and there are some secrets being hidden from him because he is outside and not within. </p><p>The gate is warm beneath his touch, though the sun is nowhere to be found in the sky, a fact Hongjoong barely registers as strange. The metal is smooth and immovable under his fingertips, and as he drops his hand two boys appear on the other side as if formed from thin air.</p><p>“Welcome,” one proclaims, and Honjoong steps away from the sharpness of his features. He’s pale, with a tuft of white in his dark hair, his clothes all cobalt blue and silver, and the other boy with him, the one lazily stretching his arms through the gate to Hongjoong’s side, is all black leather. His features are kinder, and it’s in his hand that the key is presented, and fitted into the lock of the gate. It swings open, and as it passes, it traces the world beyond it into being, as if its movement lifts a film from over Hongjoong’s eyes that had blinded him, to the grass and the sky and the life now blooming around them.</p><p>The boy in black cocks his head to the side and raises an arm, beckoning Hongjoong through. His lips seem perpetually stretched into a smile, and there’s something loose and free about the way he moves that reminds Hongjoong of the snakes he’d seen once on a school trip, graceful and fluid and fast. He follows as Hongjoong passes him, down a path in the grass that has been trodden flat under hundreds of feet.</p><p>The blue boy watches them pass, and the gate groans closed by his hand before he too gives up his post and trails behind them, through the scene that currently snatches the air from Hongjoong’s lungs.</p><p>To call it a fair ground would be ill-fitting, he supposes, and circus, though a closer bet, doesn’t do it justice either. It’s open, grass green and long enough to scratch at Hongjoong’s ankles now, a vivid green that’s almost painfully bright. The sky above is an unbroken wash of white-blue, pale and unchanging, with no clouds or altering shades within it. There are market stalls, and games, and a few carts selling food, lying about them, with vendors smiling and laughing and patrons strolling lazily through them, testing their hands at games or taking huge bites of red candy floss. Hongjoong double takes, eyeing the sweet in most of the patrons’ hands, how the unnatural colour seems more saturated than it should. Now he’s noticed it, red blooms up about him with surprising frequency- the market stalls and food stalls are draped with red table cloths, the smaller ones tied with red ribbon, and the signs for the amusement stalls are red, too. Everyone, ever patron and seller, is dressed in head-to-toe wine red, a color deeper than the other shades around them. The only people not wearing red are Hongjoong and the two from the gate who follow him.</p><p>Hongjoong steps towards one, and collides with a younger boy who’d dashed in front of him, sending him tumbling to his knees in the grass.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he says, dropping to eye level, as the boy looks up at him with wide, shocked eyes. They’re a vibrant crimson, and Hongjoong leans away before he can catch himself. The boy grins up at him, shark-like, even as Hongjoong’s own smile falters.</p><p>“Are you alright?”</p><p>The boy in black steps closer and crosses his arms over his chest, just visible in Hongjoong’s peripheral. The little boy scrambles to his feet and barks something close to a laugh, skipping away before Hongjoong can do any more than jump at the sound.</p><p>“Careful,” the boy in black says, and Hongjoong spins to see him standing too close, their noses almost knocking when he turns to face him. He jumps back.</p><p>“Right,” Hongjoong breathes, uncertain whether the word is a threat or a friendly caution. “Are you like an usher or something?”</p><p>The boy in black cocks his head to the side. His eyes are strange, Hongjoong notices, but not obviously so, and now he’s noticed it he can’t decide what it is about them that’s strange. They’re too clear, somehow, too sharp as they take him in, just like his smile, the grin that hasn’t stopped stretching his lips, just like everything about the blue boy from the gate who's still staying paces behind them.</p><p>The boy in black doesn’t answer, so Hongjoong clears his throat and tries another question. “D’you have a name?”</p><p>The boy shrugs. “Wooyoung.” He says it as if it’s nothing, a nonsense thing, as if Hongjoong is strange to ask for it, as if there is another way to address him.</p><p>“And-and the other-” Hongjoong points to the blue boy, and Wooyoung glances behind him as if he’s forgotten he was there. </p><p>“San.” Again, as if it weighs nothing on his tongue.</p><p>“Right. I’m Hongjoong.”</p><p>The blue boy narrows his eyes and laughs with the same sudden sharpness that the little boy had. “No you’re not.”</p><p>Hongjoong frowns.</p><p>“Wha-”</p><p>“Ignore him,” Wooyoung says, waving the words out of the air with fluid motions. “Perhaps you’d like us to show you around?”</p><p>The idea that he’s lost hadn’t occurred to Hongjoong. He glances around him with wide eyes. Where was he, again?”</p><p>“Um...I-huh.”</p><p>Wooyoung laughs in the back of his throat, without opening his mouth. It’s different from the other laughs, different to everything in this strange place so far, and it catches Hongjoong’s attention.  The boy in black steps even closer, leaning in so their faces almost touch.</p><p>“Wake up,” Wooyoung whispers, and Hongjoong does.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>His alarm flares to life on his bedside table, an inch from his ear. He winces away from it, heart hammering.</p><p>This time, he remembers nothing.</p><p>His morning is the same as it always is, five minutes ignoring the possibility of having to get out of bed and then another ten trying unsuccessfully to pull himself from the covers and to his feet, and the next twenty after that fussing in the shower, then the kitchen, and then with his hair in the mirror by their front door. The doorbell goes at half past the hour, just as it always does, because Mingi is on time for one thing and one thing only, and that one thing is walking to school with his best friend. </p><p>“You look terrible,” his friend greets him, before Hongjoong can even finish tying his laces.</p><p>“Charming.” He tucks the double knot on his sneakers inside his shoes and grabs a coat. “Didn’t sleep well. I don’t think. Can’t remember much of last night.”</p><p>Mingi steps back onto the street as Hongjoong locks the door to his tiny apartment. “You been on the vodka again?”</p><p>Hongjoong pretends to throw his keys at him. “You’re hilarious.”</p><p>“Seriously, are you OK? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”</p><p>“I’m fine,” Hongjoong says, because he still thinks he is, even if the world has started to tip a little too much to the left and his eyes are sore from the lack of sleep he should have gotten. He'd made sure to go to bed early, too.</p><p>Mingi, dubious, raises a brow. “You always say that.”</p><p>“Really, it’s nothing.”</p><p>They get barely halfway to school before Hongjoong’s puking up one of his lungs and Mingi simultaneously rubs comforting circles into his back and yells at him.</p><p>“<em>Idiot </em>,” Mingi sighs, when Hongjoong has finally emptied his stomach. “What’s gotten into you? Last time you were ill was when you caught chicken pox when you were four.”</p><p>Hongjoong doesn’t get sick. He should, really, with the lifestyle he has, all the candy and lack of sleep and stressing over every little detail of everything he does, but he doesn’t. Mingi looks two seconds away from throwing him over his shoulder and marching all the way back to Hongjoong apartment. House arrest for sure, if he has his way.</p><p>“I’m alright now,” Hongjoong says, pushing himself to his feet and striding forward. “That made me feel better.”</p><p>Mingi yelps and races after him. For someone so small, Hongjoong can move <em> fast </em> when he wants to.</p><p>“You’re out of your mind.”</p><p>“I am <em> not </em> skipping the first day of classes,” Hongjoong grumbles back. “It’d just jinx the entire year, and I’m pretty determined not to make this one suck as much as last year did.”</p><p>That’s enough for Mingi to stop nagging at him until they reach the gates.</p><p>“If you pass out in chem and set yourself on fire or something I’ll never forgive you.”</p><p>Hongjoong rolls his eyes. “I’ll make sure to set someone else on fire, then.” </p><p>“Atta boy.”</p><p>Mingi gives him a quick salute and then lets himself be dragged in the opposite direction by a flock of students. </p><p>Alone, Hongjoong draws in a huge breath and hold it for a few seconds. His heart is still a little too fast, only just noticeable as a beating in his ears, but other than that he’s fine. Shaken, but fine. He pulls himself together in a second and slams his locker shut.</p><p>Jongho is already waiting for him when he gets to AP chemistry.</p><p>It’s not like Hongjoong doesn’t <em> like </em> Jongho. The kid’s nice, in that quiet kind of way. They’ve never really disagreed on anything. And he’s a welcome change from Mingi's chaos sometimes. It’s just that no one <em> else </em> seems to like Jongho, and that’s a little unsettling. Hongjoong’s fairly certain he’s never seen any other student so much as utter his name. Including teachers. All of the seats next to him are always empty. And as soon as classes are done, he’s gone. </p><p>“G’morning,” the other boy mumbles, as Hongjoong takes the stool beside him. They’d been lab partners last year, because Hongjoong had missed the first day and every other seat had been taken the next, so really he’d had no choice.</p><p>“How was your summer?” Hongjoong asks, launching himself head first into the necessary small talk. He guesses he doesn’t really need to, with Jongho, because the other boy must not want to do this either, but so much time with Mingi has instilled Hongjoong with an instinct to talk to people even when he’d really rather not.</p><p>“Hot and uneventful,” Jongho smiles. “Yours?”</p><p>“Uneventful and hot.”</p><p>Jongho does his best to laugh. For some reason it makes Hongjoong wary of him.</p><p>That’s ridiculous, though. He’s only being polite.</p><p>But that laugh just didn’t sit right.</p><p>Hongjoong shakes it out of his ears and focuses on ignoring the blabbering of their teacher. Jongho is out of his stool just as the bell signals the end of the period. </p><p>“See you later,” he says, though they both know they won’t be seeing each other until their next chemistry lesson. They’re not outside-of-class friends.</p><p>Mingi rattles on through lunch about one of the girls in his class. Hongjoong only half listens, but that’s not an uncommon occurrence, so Mingi doesn’t call him out on it. He’s still hearing Jongho’s fake little laugh bounce around in his skull, too quiet and too polite to be real.</p><p>Has he ever heard Jongho laugh any differently? Talk differently, raise his volume from that set barely-there tone he’d always had?</p><p>Did Hongjoong talk like that too?</p><p>“Are you listening?”</p><p>Mingi is staring at him from the other end of the sofa. A movie plays out unwatched on Hongjoong’s TV in front of them.</p><p>Hongjoong sighs. “No,” he confesses. “What were you saying?”</p><p>“I was saying one of the boys in my gym class said something bad about that kid in the year below us who tried out for the cheer leading club and Yunho started cussing him out in front of the teacher and didn’t get so much as a detention. I swear I thought they were going to throw hands, but Yunho put on that <em> popular guy </em> smile and the other guy just backed down.”</p><p>Yunho. Hongjoong doesn’t have to think about where he’s heard the name before for his brain to conjure up the image of a raven haired, tall boy surrounded by crowds of adoring lackeys.  </p><p>“God, I hate school. I don’t know if you should be hanging out with that guy this year. I don’t trust him.”</p><p>Mingi smiles fondly. “You don’t trust anyone, Joongie.”</p><p>The immediate reaction Hongjoong has to that is a very sudden replay at the back of his mind, of Jongho’s laughter that morning, and suddenly he’s grumpy and annoyed. “I trust you,” he counters, his voice a little too serious for their conversation. Mingi is too nice to point it out.</p><p>“I don’t count,” he reminds Hongjoong. “It’s hard not to trust someone so overwhelmingly amazing.”</p><p>“Actually I just meant you’ve known me all your life so, if you’d wanted to back-stab me you’d probably have done it by now.”</p><p>Mingi squints as if actually considering the accuracy of this. “You’re probably right,” he says eventually. “I can’t work up that kind of motivation anymore.”</p><p>“You talk as if you’re nearing your eightieth birthday, Mingi.”</p><p>“I might as well be.” Mingi shuffles further into the nest of cushions on Hongjoong’s sofa, too tall for the furniture, his toes poking into Hongjoong’s side. “I’m not ready to be a Senior.”</p><p>Hongjoong closes his eyes. “Yeah,” he sighs, forgetting Yunho and Jongho and every other face he’d seen today. One more year, and then what? More classes, more years, just new faces, the same old things in new packaging. Something in him aches to run from it all, though there’s nowhere else to go in sight.</p><p>Mingi senses the change of mood in the air and gets Hongjoong in the eye with an incredibly accurate throw of a gummy bear. Somehow the world tilts in the right direction. Hongjoong doesn’t dream that night.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Mars</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Stop looking at me like that.”</p><p>Hongjoong draws back in surprise. “Like what?”</p><p>“Like that,” Jongho says, pointing at Hongjoong’s expression. “You’ve been looking at me like that since monday. Did I do something wrong?”</p><p>“What? No.” Hongjoong shakes his head violently. “No, of course not.” There’s no possible way for Jongho to have done something wrong. He never does anything to begin with. </p><p>“I guess I’m just tired. Sorry. Mingi tells me I have a habit of glaring people down sometimes. I didn’t mean to.”</p><p>Jongho accepts this immediately, though whether he’s actually accepted this explanation or just wants to end the matter as quickly as possible is hard for Hongjoong to decide. </p><p>“First week stressing?”</p><p>“No,” Hongjoong laughs. “Entire life stressing.”</p><p>“I see.” He doesn’t say ‘<em>well if you ever need anyone to talk to</em>...’ or ‘<em>I’m sure things will pan out</em>’, and Hongjoong is caught between gratitude and irritation. Jongho is already turning back to the textbook spread between them. </p><p>Wednesday. Double period. They’ve got half an hour before lunch.</p><p>“Hey,” he says a little too loudly. “I was wondering whether you’d wanna maybe get lunch or so-”</p><p>“Thank you,” Jongho cuts in. “But I don’t like eating on campus. I live pretty close to school, so…”</p><p>“Oh.” This is the first piece of information on Jongho he has ever recieved and he can’t even feel happy about it because it’s being used to justify a rejection. “That’s cool.” Oh God, he didn’t just say that. “The offer stands, I guess.”</p><p>Jongho blinks at him, and then nods, slowly. “Sure. Yeah. Sure, thanks Hongjoong.”</p><p>And then there’s silence until the bell. Jongho packs up and escapes before anyone else can even step towards the door, and as usual Hongjoong stays in his seat until most of the crowd has cleared. Maybe they’re just not meant to be friends.</p><p>When had he started wanting to be? Hongjoong can’t help but lose himself in his thoughts as he trails towards the entrance of school, where he knows Mingi will already be lounging on the short wall lining the drive. He’d never been against the idea. Jongho hadn’t seemed to mind his company either, right? But he’d never actually put in any effort. Was that what he was doing now, putting in the effort? And if so, what has changed?</p><p>He’s too busy wondering about it that he walks headfirst into another student. The other kid’s substantially taller than he is, and Hongjoong feels himself thrown back a few paces before the other boy looks up from his phone and grabs Hongjoong’s flailing forearm.</p><p>“Sorry,” Hongjoong pants, “I wasn’t looking-”</p><p>He looks up to see Yunho grinning down at him.</p><p>“That’s alright, Hongjoong,” the dark haired boy smiles. “I wasn’t looking either. It was probably my fault.” </p><p>He releases Hongjoong’s arm with another easy smile, carding his free hand through his hair, lifting it from his forehead. “Take care, yeah?” He says, and steps aside, clamping a hand amiably on Hongjoong’s shoulder as he passes.</p><p>Hongjoong gasps as everything comes rushing up at him.</p><p>A boy dressed in blue, and one in black, laughing and grinning quicksilver grins, sharks, crimson all around them, around him, as he spins in place and then a voice, turning to an alarm clock shrill.</p><p>“Joong?”</p><p>Mingi’s standing over him, one hand on each of Hongjoong’s shoulders, squeezing too tight in his worry. Hongjoong steps out of his grip and swipes a hand over his face.</p><p>“What’s going on with you? You’ve got that look again.”</p><p>Hongjoong tries his voice, and it fails.</p><p>Mingi leans closer to see his face. “Do I need to take you to the nurse?”</p><p>“No, no I’m alright. Just...light headed for a second. Must be the heat.”</p><p>Mingi squints up at the sky above them. A pleasant warmth is beaming down on them, cooler than the portion of summer they’d suffered through already, and the sky is clear.</p><p>“You should sit down.”</p><p>Mingi drags them over to the spot on the wall that people have started to leave empty for them, and they hop onto it, Mingi’s legs touching the asphalt below them, Hongjoong’s swinging in the air.</p><p>“Are you sure there’s nothing else?” Mingi asks, studying Hongjoong’s frown and the slight tremor of his fingers where they clutch the brick either side of his legs.</p><p>“I just remembered a weird dream…” He trails off, scratching the back of his head aggressively enough to set his hair in crazy tufts sticking in every direction.</p><p>“A dream?” Mingi prompts.</p><p>“I think so. It felt so real.”</p><p>When he sees Hongjoong is telling the truth, and the color has returned to his face, Mingi visibly relaxes. “That happens sometimes,” he nods. “I had a dream once that ferrets were trying to eat me, and then I woke up and found my hamster had gotten out of its cage and was trying to eat through my pyjamas.”</p><p>Hongjoong laughs despite himself, because Mingi looks so serious.</p><p> “Ferrets?”</p><p>“Hey, have you not watched a nature documentary? They’re vicious little bastards, I’m telling you. Remember that show we were watching-”</p><p>Hongjoong passes the day with minimum effort, listening to Mingi’s rants and ramblings, responding with a few well-timed laughs and jokes of his own, making sure to look as if he was paying attention in the rest of his classes. He wants to put in more effort this year- their final year, and one Hongjoong and Mingi had both sworn would be amazing and successful and the best year ever one late summer night during school break. But his mind is cobalt crimson, and none of the words he catches around him can stick around long enough to silence the sound of sharp laughter rattling around in his skull.</p><p>He collapses into bed as soon as he’s home, sparing only a moment to kick off his shoes before his head hits his pillow. And a dream finds him, again. </p><p>Black leather and a sharp smile opposite him. Blue and silver, behind that.</p><p>“Oh?” Wooyoung’s full lips purse into an impressed pout of a smile. “Didn’t think you’d be back so soon.”</p><p>Hongjoong spins in a circle and sees the same scene around him, the crimsons of the stalls and patrons around them, the same pale blue sky and grass reaching for his ankles in saturated brightness.</p><p>“Weird,” he mumbles to himself. The same dream twice in one week. Wooyoung grins wider at him, as if it’s his way of asking for an explanation.</p><p>Not the same dream. Just the same place.</p><p>Hongjoong pinches his arm and all he gets for his effort is a sudden burst of pain and a very amused laugh from Wooyoung.</p><p>“Silly,” the boy laughs. “Tiny tricks like that won’t work here.”</p><p>The cobalt boy- San- steps up to their sides and raises a hand. There’s a clear glass goblet between his fingers, and Hongjoong looks up to find his dark eyes trained on his face. He reaches for the cup just as Wooyoung turns and spots it. He slaps San’s hand suddenly, and the lavender liquid sloshes out onto the grass.</p><p>“Not ready,” Wooyoung whispers fiercely.  “Not yet not ready.”</p><p>San doesn’t react, and Wooyoung straightens, his features clearing of shadow and drawing more humane lines across his face. For a moment, he hadn’t looked like himself, more nightmare than dream, and a chill has risen bumps of cold up Hongjoong’s arm.</p><p>Wooyoung pulls his grin back on and clasps his hands behind his back.</p><p>“You didn’t stick around long enough last time to have fun,” he reminds Hongjoong. “Perhaps this time we can show you around?” His eyes drop to the spilled goblet in the grass beneath them and then fly back up to Hongjoong’s face. His grin widens awkwardly.</p><p>“I-I’m sorry,” Hongoong stumbles, and then realises how strange it is to apologise to people within his own dream. “But where am I?” Somehow he thinks there might be an answer to this, that he should know. Perhaps if he figures out where he is the dream will stop, or turn into another one.</p><p>San and Wooyoung look at each other. Wooyoung looks back to Hongjoong to smile at him, and then steps aside and leans closer to San, where they mutter to each other.</p><p>“What’s the question?”</p><p>“What’s the answer?”</p><p>“Well Mars will know.”</p><p>“Should we ask him?”</p><p>“No, should we show him?”</p><p>Both of them look back to Hongjoong at this.</p><p>“Twice,” Wooyoung says.</p><p>“Again,” San agrees.</p><p>“Must mean something.”</p><p>“Something.”</p><p>“Mars will know.”</p><p>“Should we take him?”</p><p>Hongjoong clears his throat. Only Wooyoung looks at him.</p><p>“Are you going to show me around?” he asks them. “Or should I just-” his foot leaves the grass, but as soon as he’s planting it a pace away both of them have rushed back to him.</p><p>“We’ll show you,” Wooyoung promises through a grin, a lock of oil-spill hair dropping into his eye as he nods. “Show you around. Follow us.”</p><p>They lead him through the carts and stalls, Wooyoung pinching a sprig of crimson candy floss from the stall and offering it to Hongjoong, who refuses, his mind still on the bubbly lavender drink he’d almost tasted. Wooyoung’s tongue soon turns a bright scarlet with the stain of it, as he rambles nonsense about the best way to win all the games around them and tries unsuccessfully to feed Hongjoong some of his candy. There’s a shooting game, and a hook-the-duck, a carousel with elegant white swans instead of horses, other ancient games in spotless stalls set out in a wide swirl. The farther in they get, the less people there are, and San and Wooyoung lead him to the tent in the very centre but don’t let him inside. San vanishes through the flap first, and Wooyoung keeps Hongjoong inside.</p><p>“Mars isn’t inside,” San says a second later, reappearing at Hongjoong’s other side.</p><p>“Maker day,” Wooyoung muses, and Hongjoong guesses that the words must mean something good, from the change in his expression, though his smile hasn’t moved from his lips in some time. His eyes seem lighter, less strange, and they both let Hongjoong trail around more freely now. Wooyoung shoves a handful of red candy into San’s mouth and cackles when the other boy spits it out just as quickly.</p><p>Hongjoong wonders why he doesn’t find them scary and turns towards one of the game stalls that had caught his eye earlier.</p><p>It’s a simple one, one he remembers from years ago, when a troop had stopped in town and set up camp for a few weeks. All the beanbags he’s offered are the same crimson cotton that surrounds them, and the teacups set precariously on shelves at the back of the stall are painted the same color. Hongjoong raises his arm to throw and stops.</p><p>There’s another boy, on the other side of the hexagonal stall, mid-throw. He’s tall, with ivory skin and pale blond hair. His features are fine, and there’s a red gash across one of his eyes, like a drip of paint, not a scar or cut but not makeup either, a birthmark in unnatural saturation, just like everything here. His lips are a pale pink that’s almost stretched into a smile, and his clothes the shade of red now all too familiar to Hongjoong.</p><p>“Mars,” Wooyoung yells delightedly, and the blond boy looks towards them. He catches Hongjoong’s eye.</p><p>Hongjoong wakes up instantly.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Worlds and Worlds</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This time he remembers. When he jolts awake, it's with the memory of pale skin and red cloth, and his limbs are shaking with their sudden awakening, but it’s nothing compared to this other awakening, now the memories have returned and are flooded with new images, new faces. The first dream hadn’t stuck, immediately, had somehow caught up to him later, but this one cloys at his skin as he drags himself through his usual routine, hours too early, his nerves shot. When he fusses with his hair in the mirror by his door, his eyes are wide and his expression stricken. The doorbell chimes, and he smothers on a more normal expression before Mingi can see him.</p><p>
  <em> It was just a dream, Hongjoong. Just a dream, even if it had felt so real. </em>
</p><p>Realer than this, realer than the metal of his doorknob as he locks the door behind them, realer than the breeze that sways around them as they walk. There’s a sun, in this sky, but the heat it should be bringing feels cold against his skin.</p><p>Thursday. Thursday means AP biology, the only other class Hongjoong has with Jongho. Somehow this brings him comfort, as he suffers through classes and lunch and ends up in their classroom, because Jongho’s unassuming silence is a better fit for whatever is going on in Hongjoong’s mind that Mingi’s usual unending energetics. </p><p>But Jongho takes one look at his expression and sees what Mingi hasn’t noticed all day in an instant.</p><p>“What happened to you?” The pen he’d been clutching lightly falls to their desk and is forgotten as Jongho spins in his stool and looks Hongjoong up and down.</p><p>“Why are you asking?”</p><p>Jongho leans back- maybe Hongjoong had sounded too harsh there.</p><p>“You look like you saw a ghost.”</p><p>Hongjoong sighs. “People keep saying that,” he grumbles as he drops his satchel and pulls out his chair. “I might start believing it myself, soon.” Jongho gives him a strange look, and Hongjoong does his best to smile in a way that might settle his concern, if that’s what it is. “I haven’t been sleeping.”</p><p>Well, he has. It’s not even that he feels tired, which means he must still be getting enough sleep, despite the sudden awakenings. </p><p>“Just a little on edge,” he reassures, and then proves his point immediately when someone on the next table drops their textbook onto their desk and Hongjoong jumps as if he’d heard a gunshot.</p><p>Jongho eyes him. “Are you sure you should be here right now?”</p><p>Hongjoong runs his hands through his hair. The usual response, the usual <em> Im Fine </em>, is on his tongue, but he swallows it, and his chair scrapes tile as he stands.</p><p>“You’re right. I should- I should get home. Get some rest.”</p><p>Jongho nods.</p><p>Hongjoong has apparently made a habit of walking directly into the path of the people he least wants to see, because he walks out of their classroom not only to find his biology teacher on the other side of the door, but sidestepping him to avoid collision results in a direct collision with the boy passing behind him. Yunho. Again.</p><p>“Hongjoong?” his teacher asks, peering at him as he steps away from Yunho, who’s grinning down at him in that 10 watt way that lights up his entire face. “Are you really trying to skip my class on the first week of the semester?”</p><p>“I-I wasn’t feeling well.”</p><p>Yunho hums empathetically and pulls one of Hongjoong’s satchel strap further up his arm from where it had fallen, as if it was something they did all the time, as if they were friends.</p><p>“You don’t look like yourself, Joong.” He glances at Hongjoong’s teacher, who nods back in agreement. “You should take better care of yourself.”</p><p>“Yes, alright. Go home, get some rest.”</p><p>Hongjoong glances between them. His biology teacher is infamously merciless to people trying to get out of his classes. Yunho, who’s not in any of his classes, must still know this rumour, particularly because of his popularity, and the way it allows him to know pretty much everything he could wish to know about anyone. But Yunho’s just nodding along, and their teacher’s smiling between them.</p><p>Hongjoong stutters a thank you and starts shakily down the hall. </p><p>He’s too awake to sleep. He considers it for only a second, before ruling out the idea entirely. Another dream wouldn’t help him right now, and he can’t be certain he wouldn’t dream. </p><p>He pulls his laptop out instead, curled up on the sofa with a steaming mug and a blanket around his shoulders, feeling infinitesimally better for these small comforts, and gets lost online for a few hours. He starts out with a simple search, a vague interpretation of his dream typed into a search bar and bringing up vague results. Dreaming of a circus apparently means your life is in chaos. Hongjoong almost laughs.</p><p>He finds nothing, when he tries a deeper search. The meanings of dreams are just as forgein to him as astrology, and just as untrustworthy, giving him nothing but over generalisation. There’s a lack of real answers, when he tries out the science of it all, because dreams are understood by precisely no one in the entire world, and he closes his laptop with an angry snap after another hour of nothing.</p><p>He’s stressed. That’s what he’s learned. He didn’t need the internet to tell him that.</p><p>Maybe he really <em> should </em> try and sleep. His eyes have started to look bloodshot, and the darkness rimming them has darkened since this morning.<br/>He’d been fighting sleep only a second ago, but now it’s calling to him, and he can’t seem to resist it.</p><p>His head hits the pillow, but he doesn’t feel it. He’s already standing in long grass with a pale sky above him.</p><p>“Back already!” A voice cries excitedly behind him, and Hongjoong swivels to see Wooyoung, the light catching in his oil-spill hair, turning it blue and then gold and then purple as he skips forward.</p><p>Hongjoong glances around him. “Where’s the other one of you?”</p><p>Wooyoung giggles. “Maker day. He’s with Mars.”</p><p>“Ok, what is that? That thing you keep saying. Maker day.”</p><p>Wooyoung dissolves into another bout of giggles, more amused than ever, as if Hongjoong is a particularly adorable toddler who knows so little about the world around him he can’t even ask the right questions.</p><p>“Mars is more <em> Mars </em> on Maker Days.”</p><p>Wooyoung starts striding towards the stall Hongjoong had almost played at last night as if his words are all the explanation Hongjoong needs, rather than the nonsense they actually are.</p><p>Hongjoong follows. Wooyoung is the only dark spot amongst the rivers of red, and the other patrons seem less alive, somehow, more mechanical as they make the rounds about the stalls and games. Hongjoong is starting to realise most of them look familiar, like he’s seen them walking the same path every time he’s been here, like they’re toy cars going around a track they can’t get out of, stuck in a loop.</p><p>“Where are we going?” he asks, half-running to catch up to Wooyoung, who’s moving as fast as usual.</p><p>Wooyoung raises his hands in an exaggerated, child-like shrug. “Wandering.” But his feet seem to be taking him somewhere, and he passes the game stall and then another, swiping a candy floss cone from a little girl in red as they pass and sink further into the spiral. The red cotton tent in the very centre, where they’d looked for Mars last time Hongjoong was here, sits exactly as it had then, and Wooyoung circles it once, then twice, as Hongjoong waits a pace behind him. </p><p>Though the surface of the tent looks perfectly whole to Hongjoong, and he can’t see any sign of any type of entrance, Wooyoung mutters to himself as he circles it, and then he puts his arm through the cotton up to his elbow and laughs triumphantly.</p><p>Hongjoong stares open-mouthed at the boy’s arm where it disappears into the fabric. “How are you doing that?”</p><p>“Maker day,” Wooyoung reminds him, as if it’s the answer to everything. </p><p>Hongjoong gives in and decides to allow himself to ask the questions Wooyoung will laugh at him for. The only way he’s going to know anything around here is if he asks.</p><p>“So?”</p><p>Wooyoung <em> does </em> laugh at him, of course. “Mars is working. Left a hole for us to find.” He grins, and then side steps, so the rest of him vanishes inside.</p><p>Hongjoong starts and steps up to the tent. He runs a hand along the surface of it, around the place Wooyoung had slipped through. It’s cool and smooth under his fingers, and unbroken, until he moves his hand a little higher, and his fingers pass through as if it's made of no more than air. </p><p>WIth a deep breath, he leans forward, and lets it swallow him.</p><p>Inside isn’t any larger than the outside. Hongjoong had started wondering whether he should expect to be inside a palace, or somewhere equally huge and ridiculous, as he’d felt the charged air rush over him, but it’s as one would expect. The red cotton casts a red glow over everything, but it’s bright and airy and still a decent size. </p><p>The area he has stepped into is empty, but a few feet away there’s a desk, with seats either side of it, so Hongjoong can’t tell which way it’s facing. The wood is dark and reddish and forgein, and the paper held in place under a red glass paperweight is sprawled with unfamiliar swirls of ink. Red too, of course.</p><p>There’s a sitting area beside the desk, a few flat, round cushions on a flat white rug, a low table between them, and then further in behind the pole keeping the tent raised is a mattress, half hidden by a swath of cloth strung up like a curtain to portion of that half of the room. There are voices coming from behind the curtain, where the light filters through the cotton just enough to outline two shapes, one tall and sitting, the other smaller and standing with his hands clasped behind his back.</p><p>Wooyoung throws himself onto one of the desk chairs and it spins around under his weight, though it's wooden, and should remain fixed in place. Hongjoong takes a cautious step forward.</p><p>“So what does this-”</p><p>Before he can even say his name, the sound of Hongjoong’s voice makes the sitting figure behind the curtain jump to their feet, and a pale hand is drawing the curtain away to reveal Mars behind it.</p><p>He’s the same as the vague memory Hongjoong had kept of him from the last time, when he’d first seen him. Porcelain skin and hair so blond it’s almost white, slender and fine-featured, cold as ice. San’s behind him now, sharp and dark as usual, staring at Hongjoong from around Mars’ shoulder like a child hiding behind their parent.</p><p>“What’s he doing back already?” Mars says, the first thing Mars ever says, as far as Hongjoong’s concerned. The depth of his voice is surprising, but it’s the warmth that’s the real surprise, where Hongjoong had expected chill.</p><p>Wooyoung giggles, high-pitched and free. “Asking us?” he asks, and Mars’ eyes settle on him and still his amusement, scolding.</p><p>Mars steps further into the room, and Wooyoung gives up his chair at the desk, thought there’s still one free, and Mars takes it. San and Wooyoung slump onto cushions on the floor, as Mars glances up and Hongjoong sees his eyes are a cold, violent blue, the same shade of the sunless sky stretching above the tent.</p><p>“Welcome,” Mars says.</p><p>Hongjoong looks around him.“Where am I?” he asks, uncertain whether a welcome is a good thing.</p><p>“You’re dreaming,” Mars says.</p><p>“I don’t think that answers my question.”</p><p>The pale boy quirks a brow. “No?”</p><p>Though it seems like a challenge, somewhere within Hongjoong’s consciousness already knows this is a dream, and if this is his dream, he should have nothing to fear.</p><p>So he shakes his head. “I’ve been here before.”</p><p>“How many times?” Mars asks, as if he already knows the answer.</p><p>“Twice. This is the third time.”</p><p>Mars nods. “Twice,” he echoes. “This is the third time.”</p><p>Wooyoung giggles, and Hongjoong’s head turns towards the sound. San is less amused, staring back at Hongjoong with a blank expression. </p><p>“Do you have any idea how you got here?” </p><p>When Hongjoong looks back at him, Mars’ expression is blank too, but the careful kind, the synthetic kind, his eyes too bright not to betray him. Suddenly, Hongjoong is wary of his own answer. If it is the wrong one, will he wake up in his own bed, will he even remember being here?</p><p>But it’s on his tongue, and it wrestles free of him despite his worry, as if called by another’s will.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>Mars hums. </p><p>“Are you lost?” he asks.</p><p>And Hongjoong answers without thinking about his words, and realises Mars’ pale eyes locked on his are practically glowing in the red light. “I don’t feel lost.”</p><p>The words snap him out of whatever trance he’d been in, as Mars settles back against his chair and his eyes stop blazing.</p><p>“Wooyoung showed me around,” Hongjoong adds, feeling a desire to reverse whatever it is he’s just admitted, because Mars’ expression is even more careful now. “And San.”</p><p>“There is much they haven’t shown you. Worlds and worlds they haven’t shown you.”</p><p>An uneasy chill crawls up Hongjoong’s arms.</p><p>“Where am I?” he asks again, his voice firmer now.</p><p>Mars smiles, his lips stretching slowly into something more sad than happy. “You’re dreaming,” he says warmly, and Hongjoong wakes.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Rumours</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Mingi looks at him as if he’s insane- which, Honjoong supposes, might not be such a strange assumption, after everything Hongjoon’s just told him.</p><p>“A dream?”</p><p>“The <em>same</em> dream,” Hongjoong reminds him, not for the first time, unable to emphasise this point enough for Mingi to understand. “And it never feels like I'm dreaming. I feel like I haven’t gotten any sleep in a week.”</p><p>“Hmm. You look like it, too,” Mingi tells him, eyes running over the dark circles under Hongjoong’s eyes, the red bloodshot whites, up to the hair that’s sticking up in every direction, to the clothes that look like he’s slept in them. He can't have, though, because Hongjoong at least seems right- he doesn't look like he's slept at all. Mingi is starting to wonder whether these 'dreams' of his might not be insomnia induced delirium instead, but Mingi isn't a worrier, because Hongjoong had always did that for him, so he puts the thought out of his mind as soon as he thinks it. Hongjoong's fine, because Hongjoong's always fine. </p><p>“I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”</p><p>“You know,” Mingi muses, “I heard about these lucid dream things once. When you can, like, control your dream or something. What if it’s just one of those?”</p><p>But Hongjoong shakes his head. </p><p>“You think I haven’t looked it up?” It was one of the only things to come out of his extensive internet search, but it still hadn’t felt right, it hadn’t fit. “It’s not a lucid dream, it repeats itself. I can’t change anything, only other people can.”</p><p>Mingi glances at his phone as the screen lights up, and Hongjoong can feel his attention slipping away. “Like the people who wake you up?”</p><p>“Yes. Like the people who wake me up, exactly.”</p><p>Hongjoong knows what’s coming just by looking at Mingi’s face, seeing the laid back expression and posture he’s so used to, that he usually loves but now sets an irritated spark bursting under his skin.</p><p>“I don’t think the dreams are anything to worry about. Everyone has strange dreams, right? You’re tired, you just need to sleep it off.”</p><p>“All I’ve been doing is sleeping!” Hongjoong cries, jumping to his feet. “When I sleep, I dream, and when I wake up I feel more tired than when I closed my eyes.”</p><p>Mingi throws his hands in the air, his eyes blown wide in surprise. “Wow, OK, OK, no need to get angry at me.”</p><p>Though the boy in front of him is familiar and warm and Hongjoong's earliest memories, he isn't who he's seeing, as Hongjoong calms himself with a deep breath, alarmed at the way he'd snapped. It's San he's seeing, all sharp angles, awkward lines, more a shadow than a man. He blinks and he's Mingi again.</p><p>Hongjoong collapses into the sofa, half expecting it to swallow him whole.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he sighs.</p><p>Mingi smiles Hongjoong’s guilt away. He turns his attention to his phone, which has just buzzed with another message, and Hongjoong leans in to try to see the screen.</p><p>“Who is it?”</p><p>“Huh? Oh, it’s just Yunho.”</p><p>Just Yunho. Hongjoong wonders how long Yunho has been a <em> ‘just’ </em> kind of person, the kind of person Mingi doesn’t blink an eye at.</p><p>“You seem like you’re getting close,” he says, carefully. Mingi, who knows every thought Hongjoong has on everyone regardless of whether he voices them or not, gives him an askance look.</p><p>“You’ve already told me you don’t approve, Joong, but he’s a cool guy.”</p><p>“You know I’d never tell you who you’re allowed to hang out with,” Hongjoong mumbles, thinking about how he'd yelled and now this again and not wanting Mingi to misunderstand. “Just know that I get a weird vibe from him, and I don’t want you to get hurt, is all.”</p><p>Mingi smiles. “I’m a tough boy, Joong,” he whispers, and Hongjoong’s stomach twists with dread, because he knows Mingi believes that, and he knows he doesn’t. He knows Mingi. He doesn’t know Yunho.</p><p>Mingi doesn’t understand. Yunho had been nothing but polite and warm whenever they’d seen him, and he doesn't think he's ever heard a bad word about him- weird, for someone so popular. But Mingi knows Hongjoong too, and he’s rarely wrong about this kind of thing, so he pulls him close in a hug and promises anyway. “I’ll be careful.”</p><p>And then morning comes, and Hongjoong and Mingi get to the gates and spot him at the same time- it’s difficult not to notice someone like Yunho. The dark-haired boy turns, as if sensing their presence, and he smiles at Hongjoong and then Mingi, who makes his quick goodbyes and trots through the gates towards Yunho. Hongjoong isn’t the jealous type, and right now he’s too tired to feel much of anything, so he merely hikes his satchel strap higher on his arm and starts forward by himself. </p><p>Their teachers had realised very quickly it was a bad idea to keep Hongjoong and Mingi in the same classes, so it’s not unusual for them to separate at the school gates, Hongjoong alone and Mingi latching onto another group, any other one he can find.</p><p>No biology or chemistry today, which means Hongjoong really is alone, and alone is usually OK with him, but today he’s impatient as he waits for Mingi to get out of class. He should be here by now, waiting on Hongjoong so they can eat together, but Hongjoong gets to their spot on the wall first today, and he can’t help casting his eyes around him nervously. He isn’t used to the feeling of needing someone beside him, but now he could swear he feels eyes on him, and Mingi isn’t here to help distract him from it. </p><p>He’s not being paranoid. It isn’t the fatigue- there really is someone watching him. There, alone on a bench just inside the school gates, there’s a boy looking straight at him. Yeosang. Hongjoong feels himself tense and scolds himself. He walks closer, perhaps because most people wouldn't, perhaps because something within him is telling him this is what he should do.</p><p>“Is there something I can do for you?” he asks, knowing very well that his usual demeanour and appearance makes this sound more of a threat than it truly had been. Yeosang shakes his head, his huge eyes still plastered to Hongjoong. Most people would look away, when they’re caught staring, but Yeosang isn’t most people, and Hongjoong isn’t surprised when he continues to stare.</p><p>“You don’t look like yourself,” Yeosang says in his airy, far away voice.</p><p>Hongjoong frowns. They don’t know each other that well. He’s pretty sure this is the first time they’ve ever said a word to each other. All he knows about Yeosang are the rumours. </p><p>“Have you been watching me?”</p><p>This time, the irritation is purposeful, and Hongjoong is glaring, can feel how it changes his posture, the hint of anger starting in his belly. Yeosang gulps.</p><p>“Hey-Joong!”</p><p>It’s Mingi’s voice, but neither of them look at the other boy as he jogs up to them.</p><p>“Sorry,” Mingi says gently, as if he's talking to a child. “He’s not been feeling his best.”</p><p>He starts to drag Hongjoong away by the elbow, and Hongjoong lets him, if only to escape Yeosang’s gaze, which no longer seems to be stuck on him now they’re no longer alone, and more students have started to lazily leave their classes.</p><p>“What the hell was that about?” Mingi hisses to him, close to his ear, so no one else can hear them as they reach the wall. He glances over his shoulder to where Yeosang had been, though the other boy has started sulking back toward the school building. Mingi sighs and releases Hongjoong. “Don’t you know he’s got a screw loose?”</p><p>“Not you too,” Hongjoong grumbles darkly, rolling his eyes. “Has Yunho been telling you that?” </p><p>Mingi hoists himself onto the wall. “It was hardly Yunho’s fault,” he grumbles back, but when Hongjoong opens his mouth to retaliate he shakes his head. “No, no, let’s not start this again, OK? Let’s just talk about something else.” He shoves the tupperware he’d just brought out of his bag across the wall to Hongjoong, his eyes softening as they take in the effects of Hongjoong’s fatigue on his face. “You should eat.”</p><p>Hongjoong’s too tired to argue, though bread feels like sandpaper against his tongue and whatever is in this sandwich tastes like clay.</p><p>“OK.”</p><p>He doesn’t see Yeosang for a few days, and the sensation of eyes always on his back subsides enough that he wonders whether he didn’t imagine it, and an apology is in order, but then school ends on that friday, and it returns. It doesn’t take long for Hongjoong to place Yeosang, because he’s always loitering in shadowed corners, and walk over to the shaded alcove at the side of the school entrance.</p><p>“You look better than before,” are the first words out of Yeosang’s mouth, as soon as Hongjoong has stopped in front of him. The words are tinted with an undeniable disappointment that immediately sets Hongjoong’s nerves on edge.</p><p>But he decides an argument is not what he needs, right now, and even if the other boy seems to be saying all the wrong things, he doesn’t want to get on Yeosang’s bad side. Everyone else seems to be doing a good enough job of alienating him without Hongjoong’s help.</p><p>So he settles on a dry “Thank you,” and waits for Yeosang to say something else.</p><p>It takes a while. In the silence he’s so determined not to break first, Hongjoong studies the other boy.</p><p>He’s just as Hongjoong remembers him, from the few glimpses he’s had of the other boy since the rumours had started to spread. His fair hair is parted down the middle, away from his face, his eyes round and doe-like, his features soft. It’s as he’s always looked, except for the darkness under his eyes, just as bad as Hongjoong’s right now, the unhappy line of his mouth, and the strange distance always in his eyes. Those are new. Hongjoong can’t remember anymore whether they’d made their appearance before the rumours had started or after. He doesn’t think he can remember them before, when Yeosang had still been permanently attached to Yunho’s side.</p><p>Eventually, Yeosang stops nibbling his bottom lip and asks: “Are you not afraid other people will see you talking to me?”</p><p>Hongjoong shakes his head. “I don’t really have a reputation to protect, anyway, so…” Yeosang just stares at him with those wide eyes, so Hongjoong clarifies. “I’m a bit of a loner.”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“So you <em> have </em> been watching me?”</p><p>Suddenly Yeosang looks fidgety, embarrassed, almost ashamed as his eyes leave Hongjoong for the first time and bounce around with nervous energy. “Not for very long.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>Yeosang looks at him for a long time. Hongjoong almost snaps, before he finally speaks. “Have you been getting enough sleep, Hongjoong?”</p><p><em> What</em>?</p><p>He buffers, caught between shaking his head and nodding, his words caught in the back of his throat as if they refuse to be voiced. It might be nothing. He looks like hell, anyone could have asked that, just to check in, just to be polite. But Yeosang wouldn't. He wouldn't ask if he didn't know something, right? The way he'd asked, so careful, as if he couldn't bare to hear the answer, it must mean something. Can he trust Yeosang with this? </p><p>The only person Hongjoong truly trusts is Mingi, and he’s told him everything, and he knows Mingi doesn’t believe him. He thinks they’re just dreams, that Hongjoong’s being paranoid, that maybe if he saw a doctor about insomnia again this would all be over. And Yeosang is looking at him with those dazed, distant eyes, and seems to see the clearest. The question’s out before he can stop it.</p><p>“D’you know Mars?”</p><p>The reaction is instant, and equal parts gratifying and frustrating- Yeosang’s eyes widen to orbs, and he pales. The shake of his head is desperately fast, and he freezes for only a moment in place before he’s shouldering past Hongjoong as quickly as possible.</p><p>“I shouldn’t- I need to- I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Wait!”</p><p>Hongjoong leaps for him, but he’s already gone, and heads turn their way as Yeosang speeds away and Hongjoong watches the only person who seems to know anything run further and further from him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Liquid silver</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>Mingi and Yunho arrive as a pair, and it doesn’t settle Hongjoong’s nerves.</p><p>“Joong?” It’s Mingi who speaks first, Yunho just behind him, looking Hongjoong up and down in much the same manner as Mingi, who’s frowning and trying to follow Hongjoong’s eyeline through the crowd. “Who are you looking for? Were you talking to someone?”</p><p>He can feel Yunho watching him, so Hongjoong shakes his head, before he even considers telling the truth. “No. No one. I mean- I was just looking for you.”</p><p>Mingi believes him. Yunho smiles, silently. His eyes are no longer locked on Hongjoong’s face, but lowered, and when Hongjoong glances down at himself he realises his hands are shaking, badly, and Yunho has noticed.</p><p>“Ready to go?” Mingi asks, and Hongjoong shoves his hands into the pockets of his jacket and nods.</p><p>“I should be going too,” Yunho says, thankfully, as Hongjoong dreadfully wonders whether he’ll walk home with them. He steps away, one side of his grin appearing before the other, lopsided until it grows into a smaller version of his ten-watt smile. “See you around,” he says, and then, already turning away, adds, “take care of yourself, Hongjoong.”</p><p>There are no dreams that night. There are no dreams that weekend.  Hongjoong wakes feeling rested, for the first time in a long time. Rested and disappointed. There’s an empty space in his chest that’s starting to grow, every second the sun remains in the sky above him, every time he sees the color red and remembers, that there’s somewhere else he could be.</p><p>Monday morning again brings him to Jongho’s desk, and his satchel hits the ground with a satisfying slap, dropped with force to the floor as Hongjoong takes his place in one of the high science-room stools.</p><p>“Hongjoong,” Jongho says, with a note of surprise. “You’re looking better.”</p><p>Just that, enough to be polite, before he turns away again. Hongjoong’s stomach twists, and he seizes even the smallest chance of a conversation. Even days ago, he would have continued the comfortable, simple silence that settles around him and Jongho, but it’s getting harder to want that, when it feels like he has no one to talk to, as this empty feeling grows.</p><p>“I managed to sleep over the weekend,” he says, his words bursting too suddenly into the quiet, and Jongho looks a little startled. He recovers quickly though, and nods.</p><p>“That’s good,” he says, warmly, as if he means it, and Hongjoong attempts a friendly smile that feels strange on his lips. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”</p><p>This is when they’d stop, usually. Jongho already looks finished with the conversation, not in a mean, impatient sort of way, but his usual introverted disinterest Hongjoong used to share. Now it stings.</p><p>“How are you doing?”</p><p>Jongho’s too polite to ignore him, and too polite to let it show if he’s annoyed at the question.</p><p>But it doesn’t work. Of course, it’s not that easy.</p><p>“I’m good.”</p><p>And that’s all he gets. Jongho’s out the door as soon as their class ends, as always, and Hongjoong can’t get anything else out of him. Some things haven’t changed, it seems.</p><p>Others have. It’s a rare occurrence, for Hongjoong and Mingi to be apart when they could chose to be together, but Hongjoong’s phone dings in his pocket as we walks out of school, finished with his second class, and he pulls himself onto their usual spot on the wall and pulls it out to see a message from Mingi. <em> The basketball clubre having tryouts </em> , Mingi says, <em> and I need to try out again if I’m gonna stay on the team. You can come along if you want? </em></p><p>And Hongjoong makes an excuse. The empty feeling remains, fluttering like a bird trapped in his rib cage, and the last thing he wants is just to be another face in a crowd, surrounded by people with their own lives, their own problems, stranger after stranger after stranger.</p><p>He eats- or rather, nibbles without really tasting- his lunch by himself. There are no eyes on him, and no one on the wall beside him.</p><p>“Hey stranger.”</p><p>Hongjoong jumps, snapped out of his thoughts, and looks up to see Yunho smiling down at him.</p><p>He goes to speak, realises there’s food in his mouth, and swallows dryly. “Mingi isn't-”</p><p>“Oh, I know,” Yunho grins. “I wasn’t looking for him.” He perches lightly on the wall, a respectful distance away but still too close for Hongjoong to relax.</p><p>“You’re not trying out for the team?”</p><p>Yunho dips his head, and it takes a second for Hongjoong to realise he’s holding back a laugh. “Basketball’s not really my thing.” He raises his head, turning to Hongjoong again, and smiles. “Not yours either, it seems?”</p><p>“Uh, no,” Hongjoong laughs, feeling his lips pull into a shaky smile that he already knows isn’t convincing. “I guess not.”</p><p>The smile must have been worse than he imagined, because Yunho nods, awkward- or, well, Hongjoong supposes it must be him being awkward, because it isn’t like Yunho to not have something easy and charming on his tongue.</p><p>“I was just checking in,” the dark haired boy says, getting to his feet. “You look like you’re doing better.”</p><p>He <em> had </em> been feeling better. When had it started up again, the empty pit inside his chest turning into a nauseous twist in his stomach, his skin cold-hot, feverish? Hongjoong hadn’t noticed it happening, but now it’s impossible to imagine how much better he was feeling this morning, after the first good night’s rest he’d had- three days in a row, three days rest. He gets shakily to his feet and swallows around the bad taste in his mouth.</p><p>“Yeah, much better. Thanks for asking.”</p><p>He hadn’t asked anything, but Yunho doesn’t correct him, and Hongjoong stumbles away, feeling his eyes strain against the sunlight and then escaping into the dimmer corridors of the school, leaving Yunho alone on the asphalt. He throws his weight onto a bathroom door, and falls inside.</p><p>It’s empty, thankfully, and he leans against the counter of a sink as he runs cold water on his hands, his wrists, and feels the chill cut through the fever-induced slowness of his thoughts. He ducks his head forward, cupping a handful of water and splashes it across his forehead, closing his eyes as droplets race down his cheeks and tickle his neck. </p><p>The air shakes back into his lungs as he breathes deeply, his hands clutching the edge of the sink with force enough to stop their shaking. He opens his eyes- and jumps three feet in the air.</p><p>There’s someone on the counter, sitting inches from his hand, swinging his legs happily. Wooyoung. </p><p>Hongjoon’s heart thuds against the hand that had flown to lie against his chest in his shock, as if it’s trying to free itself from his chest, and with wide eyes he looks about the tiny bathroom as Wooyoung giggles. San’s there too, just as he’d expected, always a part of a pair. Standing directly behind Hongjoong.</p><p>Startled at their closeness, Hongjoong turns around again, and San’s face in the mirror in front of him is lit with the harsh bathroom fluorescence.</p><p>“What are you-”</p><p>The bathroom door swings open, the hinges screaming, and a boy Hongjoong doesn’t recognise catches the end of his sentence and frowns. He looks about the bathroom, as Hongjoong holds his breath, before stepping up to the sink the other side of Wooyoung. </p><p>“You’re staring,” Wooyoung giggles, and Hongjoong’s focus snaps to the boy with the oil-spill hair. The boy washing his hands notices the quick movement, and glances at Hongjoong. Wooyoung giggles louder. “Doesn’t like it,” he laughs, “doesn’t like you.”</p><p>Hongjoong can’t argue, as the unfamiliar student shakes his hands dry and leaves the restroom as quickly as possible, still frowning.</p><p>Hongjoong waits a few beats, making sure no one else will enter.</p><p>Then he says: “He couldn’t hear you.” </p><p>Wooyoung grins at him, amusement flickering in his sly eyes, but says nothing. In the mirror, Hongjoong catches motion, and he turns to see San nodding. The gesture is slow, too slow to look natural, and Hongjoong backs away a few steps so he can keep them both in his sight, his back to the wall.</p><p>“He couldn’t see you either.”</p><p>Wooyoung keeps staring. San nods again. Hongjoong watches as the cobalt boy looks at his partner and catches his amusement, too. His usual quiet blankness erases itself in an instant, and Hongjoong blinks rapidly, unable to process the change as San barks a laugh. There’s something about San that’s too free, too wild, to be contained here, under the harsh restroom lights, in the normalcy of a bathroom, the stalls stationed behind him, the mirror holding his reflection. His laugh is too loud and too amused, his colours too bright, his smile too wide when his expression shifts from its usual complete, unnerving blankness. Wooyoung is better at playing human, albeit a strange one, teasing and smiling and far too jovial for the situation. He puts his hands on the counter between his legs and settles his weight on them so he can lean forward, his legs swinging, very barely sitting on the counter. Hongjoong wonders at how he’s keeping balance.</p><p>“What are you doing here?” Hongjoong asks, though he’s not entirely certain they <em> are </em> here. Outside of his dream, in his school bathroom. If no one else can see them, he’s hallucinating, right? He's well and truly lost his mind.</p><p>San steps towards the sink and pulls himself up to sit cross legged on the counter, one sink between him and Hongjoong on his left, one sink between him and Wooyoung on his right.</p><p>“Maker day,” Wooyoung explains.</p><p>Hongjoong tries not to roll his eyes, feeling the irritation at the phrase quickly chased out of his mind with a rush of excitement. The empty feeling is forgotten. His mind is painted red and pale blue, vivid green grass tickling his ankles though his feet haven’t left the sticky linoleum tile.</p><p>Wooyoung smirks as if he knows what Hongjoong’s thinking. </p><p>“Wanna see a trick?” he lilts, his eyes furnace-bright, and before Hongjoong can say a word he reaches over and pushes San, one hand shoving his chest, and San falls backwards. He should hit the mirror, and Hongjoong tenses as he waits for the impact, but he doesn’t- he passes straight through it, the metal swallowing him whole, like he’s walked through a silver waterfall.</p><p>“How did you do that?” Hongjoong asks, and there’s a hunger in his voice that makes Wooyoung grin, snake-like, his features sharper in the bright bathroom luminescence, less human with every second.</p><p>“Mars’ trick,” he says gleefully, his fingers carding lazily through the liquid silver of the mirror. “Shouldn’t tell.”</p><p>Hongjoong starts forward, eliciting a high, delighted laugh from Wooyoung, who sees his panic. “You said today was a Maker day,” he says breathily, “which means you can take me, right?"</p><p>He isn’t sure how he knows this, but he does, because Wooyoung nods without a thought.</p><p>“And I’m not dreaming?” Hongjoong urges, just to check, the sudden dread of the idea filling his stomach, though the world around him is solid and unsaturated and so different to the one he’s imagining.</p><p>“Silly boy doesn’t know when he’s dreaming,” Wooyoung sings, and then he sobers, only slightly, enough to bring some clarity to his sharp eyes as they glare into Hongjoong’s. “Come play,” he says, and then lets himself fall backward, and disappears into the mirror.</p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Hall of mirrors</h2></a>
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    <p>Hongjoong’s knees connect to cool tile with a jarring rattle of bone. Wincing and then gritting his teeth at the pain, he straightens, his hands finding solid ground and pushing him to his feet. There are a row of other Hongjoongs staring back at him, and at first he flinches, not recognising his own reflection, until it too flinches away, and the dozen carbon copies of him move in time with his fear. He turns, and so too do they turn, so his sight is full of constant motion, the other Hongjoongs stalking him, about to circle closer, stealing the air from the tiny, dim room he’d landed in.</p><p>A hall of mirrors. Of course.</p><p>Collecting some of his nerves, and stomaching his fear, Hongjoong reaches out his hands. The metal of the mirror opposite him is cool and unmoving under his touch, his fingeripts resolutely prodding against its solid material, and Hongjoong is almost surprised, that a mirror would act like a mirror, when he’d just stepped through one to get here.</p><p>The other mirrors around him are much the same, but after feeling around for hinges or anything on their surface to free himself, one draws his attention. It’s behind him, when he senses the strangeness of it, and his reflection in the solid mirror he’s facing looks back at him, eyes round, another one of Hongjoong’s reflections behind it, staring back, a more menacing grin stretching it’s lips where they should be downturned in concentration.<br/>
Slowly, Hongjoong spins. The mirror that isn’t like the others remains the same, identical in every way he can see, but for the reflection of his own image caught there, which refuses to move as Hongjoong steps closer.</p><p>This time, as he somehow knows they will, his fingertips pass through the mirror as if it were liquid, molten metal without heat, and before he can even allow himself to step closer and pass through it, the mirror swallows him, and spits him out the other side.</p><p>This room is brighter, as Hongjoong stumbles into it, red-lit and narrow, a long passage with mirrors on either wall. The end is dark, and though Hongjoong squints and moves closer, he can’t make out what’s at the end of the hall. </p><p>His reflections obey him, this time, though they bend and elongate and sway, the mirrors slanted and curved, more like the funhouse mirrors he had laughed at as a child, giving him a swollen stomach, a curved spine, a head too large for his body. He laughs, despite a deeper consciousness that he shouldn’t, as his figure shifts and changes as he walks further down the corridor, every mirror altering him in a different way from the last. </p><p>His reflection doesn’t laugh back, and very quickly Hongjoong’s amusement leaves him.</p><p>He stops, facing a mirror on the right wall where he is not distorted in any way he can see. A hand reaches through the surface of it and grabs him, before he can jump away. It heaves, and he stumbles through the mirror and hits the grass beyond on all fours, his breath knocked out of him in one sudden moment.</p><p>Wooyoung giggles above him. </p><p>The sky is pale and sunless, and the grass a green so green it stings his eyes. Hongjoong gasps for air and Wooyoung startles, as if he’d screamed, his hands flailing through the air in surprise. Hongjoong takes another great gulp of air, his throat burning with it, the arms that hold him up from the grass as moisture soaks through the knees of his jeans shaking and numb.</p><p>San and Wooyoung exchange a glance. They mutter things Hongjoong doesn’t hear, because his senses have fogged as if plunged underwater, and Wooyoung slaps San so harshly on the back that the cobalt boy lurches forward, closer to Hongjoong. He blinks impassively down at the boy shivering in the long grass.</p><p>As Hongjoong raises his eyes to ward away whatever awkward comfort San could afford him, a handkerchief is lowered into his line of vision, a scrap of striped crimson silk frayed at the edges.</p><p>Hongjoong looks up further, and Mars matches his gaze with a curious quirk of his brow. His attention turns to the other boys.</p><p>“What have you done to him?” he asks them quietly, because everything Mars says he says quietly. </p><p>San steps away, and Wooyoung clasps his hands so suddenly behind his back that he claps, accidentally, amusing himself and making Hongjoong flinch.</p><p>“Brought him like you said,” San answers.</p><p>Hongjoong takes the kerchief with shaking fingers, wiping away the shocked tears that cloy at his cheeks, the air no longer refusing to fill his lungs, his breath trembling but returning to a normal speed.</p><p>Mars’s eyes slide to Wooyoung, who bows his head. “I said no such thing.”</p><p>“Didn’t <em> say </em>,” Wooyoung mutters. “All the same.”</p><p>Mars doesn’t reply, just turns his attention to San, instead, staring without any change in his expression. The cobalt boy starts forward, and Hongjoong accepts the hand extended to help him to his feet. He would feel embarrassed, if he weren’t so furious.</p><p>Wooyoung sees his anger and giggles.</p><p>“What’s so funny?” Hongjoong growls, and Mars, who had been staring out across the fair, turns to face him, interest flickering on his expressionless face. “What just happened?”</p><p>With a glance downwards to where Hongjoong has squeezed his handkerchief in a crushed ball in one fist, Mars answers. “They led you through a door you were not supposed to be led through.” His eyes turn fiery, with the same blue light they'd glowed with when they’d charmed answers out of Hongjoong in the tent, and glare at Wooyoung and San. “Visitors come through the <em> gates </em>, or they do not come at all.”</p><p>San nods, once, and Wooyoung frowns, a boyish pout on his lips.</p><p>“Shoulda been fine,” he mutters, petulant.</p><p>Mars shakes his head. “He isn’t used to it yet.”</p><p>The confusion and anger have grown inside Hongjoong and collided, and at last he tires of the conversations excluding him, when clearly they're <em> about </em> him. “Used to what?”</p><p>With the utmost patience, Mars turns to him again. He has a habit of doing that, Hongjoong thinks, turning his entire attention to one person before he addresses them, his eyes more intense than perhaps they should be, as if he aims to trap those he speaks to in place under his gaze. </p><p>“Passing through,” he says simply.</p><p>“Are you going to tell me how all of this is possible?” Hongjoong demands, and then at Mars’ lack of reaction, another thought resurfaces. “Am I going insane?”</p><p>“The first is a question for another day,” he says, voice level and quiet in the way it always is, because some people never need to raise their voices to be listened to. “As to the second, I believe you’re asking the wrong people.”</p><p>Wooyoung’s laughter is high and free, and Mars smiles infinitesimally, anger all erased. San has returned to the impassive, dazed look Hongjoong is more accustomed to seeing on him, the wild abandon he’d had in the bathroom gone now he is back in this world with Mars at his side.</p><p>Pale blue eyes flicker over Hongjoong’s face. “You should eat,” Mars tells him. “You look pale.”</p><p>Without waiting for any reply, Wooyoung begins skipping away, with San trailing slowly behind. </p><p>Hongjoong looks around as they walk. They’re surrounded by unfamiliar tents and stalls, further in than he’d ever been before, the hall of mirrors now behind him at the outskirts of the widest circle of amusements. The huge tent they’d found Mars in is tall enough to be visible still, and they walk towards it, winding in and out of stalls, patrons keeping their distance, none of the speaking. Wooyoung reaches Mars’ tent first, but circles halfway around it and keeps walking, towards the gates he’d led Hongjoong through what felt like a lifetime ago.</p><p>There’s an unmanned candy floss stall just where Hongjoong remembers it, opposite Mars' tent, and Wooyoung ducks behind it and jumps back up with a cloud of the crimson sugar spun around a stick he holds out to Hongjoong.</p><p>Under watchful eyes, Hongjoong accepts it, but hesitates.</p><p>“The sugar will help the faintness,” Mars says, just as Hongjoong realises how light-headed he is.</p><p>Cautiously, he puts it to his lips and bites. It dissolves to nothing on his tongue, as he knows it should, sweet. He thinks at first it tastes like cherries, but then he swallows, and a cold chill flushes over him, making him shiver, as if he’d bitten an ice cube, and leaves behind a tingling on his tongue. Wooyoung laughs as he drops it, the crimson dissolving into the grass until only the stick remains. </p><p>Mars clicks his tongue. “Not to your taste?”</p><p>“What was it?”</p><p>None of them answer him. Instead, Mars offers a small object, making it seem as if he’d pulled it out from inside his empty coat pocket, a cheap magician's trick. It’s a little glass vial of red liquid, and he shakes it in the air for Hongjoong to take.</p><p>“Tell me what it is.”</p><p>“What have you to fear?” Mars says, for the first time his warm voice filling with laughter. “If this is a dream it won’t harm you.”</p><p>But this time it can’t be a dream. Hongjoong had been awake when he’d talked to Yunho, awake when he’d felt feverish, awake when he’d found Wooyoung and San in his school restroom and followed them through the mirror. Hadn’t he?</p><p>He reaches for the vial, but Mars pulls it away. He beckons for Hongjoong’s hand, and only then does he give it up, dropping the vial onto Hongjoong’s outstretched palm.</p><p>The liquid is dark enough to leave a stain on the glass as Hongjoong tips it, squinting down at the tiny bottle. If this is a dream, it won’t harm him. If it does, well, at least he’ll know this isn’t a dream.</p><p>It’s warm on his tongue, though the vial had been cool, and thick like syrup. It has very little taste, except the vague impression of something Hongjoong thinks is dark chocolate, but as soon as he’s swallowed it, Mars’ lip quirks into a half-grin, and Hongjoong feels as if he’d slept for a week. It must have been medicine.</p><p>Distantly, a patron cries in triumph, and a round of clapping comes from a circle closer to the gates. Hongjoong turns towards it, the familiar sound just as he’d remembered from his rare visits to festivals and fairs that came to town, Mingi at his side, bellies full of sugar and tickets to rides clutched in their hands.</p><p>“Would you like to play?”</p><p>Now that his energy has returned to him, and Mars seems to be in a talkative mood, Hongjoong can’t deny that he’s curious. The empty feeling in his chest has been all but forgotten, and replacing it is a deeper nostalgia, though the world around him is so unlike the one in his memories. An excited thrill runs across his skin at the thought. He’d gone through the mirror, after all, hadn’t he? He'd made the choice, this time.</p><p> “What’s the game?”</p><p>Mars looks about them. He stretches his arms, lazily, indicating the stalls surrounding them, as if to say <em> take your pick </em>. Wooyoung and San behind him share a smile, a wicked tilt to their lips, and an idea comes to Hongjoong as he sees their mischief, and finds a piece of his own on his tongue.</p><p>“If I win,” he says to Mars, “will you tell me what I want to know?”</p><p>Wooyoung claps delightedly. Mars seems to consider the question, though his blue eyes are so blue already as he hears it that Hongjoong knows he’s caught him.</p><p>“Perhaps I will,” Mars muses, and Hongjoong turns and walks towards a stall as the others follow.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Winding Red Threads</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>None of the stalls actually have owners. Hongjoong hadn’t noticed that before.</p><p>Though patrons mill around, playing games and winning tickets and prizes, the people Hongjoong had mistaken for employers and employees are really just players, and no one is there behind the stalls to run the games.</p><p>The first stall Hongjoong selects out of the dozens around them is a hook-the-duck like game, with fishing rods with little hooks attached to the ends and a small circular pool of water, where little red octopuses with too many tentacles float in calm waves, waiting to be caught. He passes Mars a short, plastic fishing rod, and the pale boy accepts it with an amused grin.</p><p>“I had expected a game with higher stakes,” he says, his voice coloured with the same sly amusement, as if Hongjoong is a particularly charming, obtuse child that doesn’t understand the game yet.</p><p>Hongjoong had considered this, though. Better to start out with an easy game that’s hard to cheat, so he can see who he’s playing against.</p><p>He gestures for Mars to go first, still feeling a little ridiculous at the nature of their first game, and Mars rounds the pool as if to keep Hongjoong in his sight as he plays. His eyes lift to Hongjoong’s, and he hooks the first water-monster without looking at it, holding it patiently in the air as Hongjoong huffs and picks it from the end of the rod.</p><p>“7,” he reads, seeing the number painted on the bottom of the octopus. Wooyoung snatches it as soon as he’s finished reading it, and passes it to San, who holds it in an outstretched palm and frowns at it.</p><p>Mars hums and looks over the bobbing octopus creatures still in the pool, now spinning in a lazy circle. He takes longer snagging the other, but when he does, it's another 7, and he’s already found a pair.</p><p>Hongjoong tosses the other octopus to San and considers his chances. There were ten little monsters in the water when the game began, and now there are eight, which means there are 4 pairs left, and no way for the game to end in a draw.</p><p>It’s harder than Mars had made it seem, to catch the plastic creatures, and Hongjoong chases one around the side of the pool for a while before he is finally able to hook it and drag it from the water. Mars doesn’t move, so he snatches it himself, and shows the number on the bottom, a leaning 4 scrawled in black marker. Wooyoung seems to take a liking to it, because this time when he grabs it, he keeps it for himself.</p><p>Hongjoong ignores them. He follows his instinct, because there is no other technique for a game so simple, and he has a sneaking suspicion that the other 4 is the octopus now closest to him, hitting itself against the edge of the pool as if demanding to be chosen.</p><p>It <em>is</em> a four, which means they’re drawing, and Hongjoong is still in the running to win.</p><p>Mars makes no reaction as he scoops another octopus out of the water with ease. It takes him seconds, at most, to hook them, and Hongjoong wonders whether he’s had so much practice he could do this with his eyes closed, or whether Mars doesn’t need to try to win all the games in his world, because they’re in his world, and not Hongjoong’s.</p><p>The odds certainly seem to be stacked in his favour. San holds four octopuses, Wooyoung two, and now there are only two more pairs in the pool, four little octopus floating innocently under Hongjoong’s gaze.</p><p>There’s no point wondering which one to choose first. Once he snags the first, there will be a fifty-fifty chance of his finding a pair. If he chooses the right one, he'll win, and if he chooses the wrong one, Mars will win.</p><p>He selects the octopus in the centre and spends a moment fiddling before he manages to hook it.</p><p>He tugs, but his rod suddenly bends, the string pulling taut, as if the plastic thing at the end of his rod is a living creature, fighting against his effort, heavy enough that the rod can protest. The water has turned to glue, still the same pale blue it had been, identical to the eye except for where it pulls at the octopus and clings to the plastic. Hongjoong yanks, and the string of his fishing rod snaps. The water turns back to water.</p><p>Mars’ blue eyes are very, very blue when Hongjoong glares at him. Hongjoong drops his broken fishing rod.</p><p>“You cheated,” he bites.</p><p>Mars shrugs. “I might have cheated the game,” he admits, “but I hardly needed to cheat <em> you</em>.” He plucks the unruly sea creature from the water and shows Hongjoong the number marked on the bottom. It hadn’t been a match. Hongjoong had lost anyway, before Mars had decided to cheat.</p><p>The water is cool and malleable as Hongjoong swirls a fingertip around the pool, no longer thick or cloying, swaying in waves around every movement his fingers make on its surface. “How did you do that?”</p><p>Wooyoung leaps forward and slaps the surface of the water, making it spill over the side and splatter Hongjoong's face. Mars barely blinks.</p><p>“I can do as I please here.”</p><p>It’s not an answer, but Hongjoong hadn’t expected one, or rather hadn’t expected to understand whatever answer he <em> did </em> receive. The only way he’ll get an explanation is if he wins, and he’d blown his first chance.</p><p>“Then play another game with me,” he offers. “If you don’t think I’ll win anyway, what’s the harm?”</p><p>Mars considers this for a moment, though his expression doesn't change. He nods. “It would only be fair if I choose the game this time, don’t you think?”</p><p>Reluctantly, Hongjoong agrees. There’s really no way to stop Mars cheating, if he wishes to, because Hongjoong can’t do the things the other boy can, so he waits for Mars to decide on a game and then trails after him to the chosen stall.</p><p>Another simple game of chance, another game Hongjoong has played before. Three cups of varying shades of red sit upside down atop a table in Mars’ tent, two chairs stationed behind them and a single white marble balanced on the centre cup.</p><p>Wooyoung plucks it from it’s perch and wastes no time trapping it under the left hand cup. Mars and Hongjoong sit, and he shuffles the cups around with fast flourishes. Hongjoong squints, but manages to follow. He taps the middle cup, and Wooyoung lifts it to reveal the marble underneath.</p><p>Mars picks the correct cup in the next round, though Wooyoung’s movements have only gotten faster. When the poor glass marble is placed underneath a cup for the third time, Hongjoong loses track of it, and picks the wrong one.</p><p>Wooyoung giggles, and throws the marble up into the air, catching it with his other hand. Hongjoong grabs his wrist.</p><p>“Wait.”</p><p>Mars sits back in his chair, interest flickering behind his eyes, the smallest suggestion of a smile about his lips as if he knows what Hongjoong's thinking.</p><p>“I’ll do it this time.”</p><p>Hongjoong takes the marble from Wooyoung, feeling it like ice in his palm, chilling across his skin in cold shocks. Wooyoung laughs louder, and steps back to watch as Hongjoong places the marble under the cup by his right hand and shuffles them.</p><p>Mars doesn’t take his eyes from Hongjoong’s until the cups stop, never so much as glancing down at the game playing out before him. The satisfaction this should bring Hongjoong, that he has given up now their cheating has been interrupted, doesn’t come, because Mars is calm and amused and grinning now, with the air of something toying with its dinner.</p><p>“Pick a cup.”</p><p>Mars makes a play of needing to think about it- only a play, because Wooyoung collapses to the ground with laughter, and the red slash across Mars’ eye saturates in the same way the blue of his irises does, when he’s up to mischief. He taps the wrong cup, but Hongjoong won’t allow himself any feelings of victory until he understands the joke the others all seem in on, so he lifts the cup as if to check, anyway.</p><p>Tens, dozens, hundreds of marbles fall as he lifts it, rushing across the table, cascading over one another and tipping over the edge to fall to the earth. Wooyoung screeches, and leaps away from them. San erupts in one sudden bubble of laughter, the noise flying free of him before it can be stopped, and instantly returns to stone-faced blankness. </p><p>Mars stands and seizes the other two cups abandoned on the tabletop, and as he lifts them two more streams of identical white marbles pour out of them. They land on the tent floor by Hongjoong’s shoes.</p><p>Calmly, Mars replaces the two cups in his hands to the table.</p><p>“It seems luck is on my side,” he says, with an innocent smile.</p><p>One of the cups goes flying through the air as Hongjoong swipes it from the table. “You’re not even trying to hide the fact that you're cheating.”</p><p>Mars lazily toes at the marbles on the floor, rolling them under his boot. “Are you certain the right marble wasn’t under the cup I selected?”</p><p>An incredulous laugh tears its way out of Hongjoong’s throat- Wooyoung joins in, not seeming to care that it’s more scorn and anger than amusement.</p><p>“Of course I’m not certain,” Hongjoong cries, “but you haven’t been playing by the rules.”</p><p> “We never discussed any rules.” </p><p>Hongjoong shakes his head. “You’re doing this on purpose. You know how to play these games.”</p><p>Mars crosses his arms elegantly over his chest and juts his chin to the floor, as if to indicate the marbles. “This <em>is</em> how I play them.”</p><p>Three pairs of eyes follow him as Hongjoong throws himself into one of the empty chairs. He knows he’s sulking, but he lets himself do it anyway, hearing the childish, sour note in his voice. “There was no point making a deal. Not if you want to play like this.”</p><p>There is a moment of silence, as they stare down at him, and then Mars unfolds his arms and waves a hand through the air, and San and Wooyoung nod and make their way out of the tent.</p><p>“You’re angry,” Mars says. Hongjoong scoffs. “We were only playing.”</p><p>“<em>I </em> was playing,” Hongjoong corrects. “You were cheating and making a fool of me.”</p><p>“Would you prefer if I had let you win?”</p><p>It rushes at Hongjoong all at once, and he drops his head into his hands, willing away the images around him, the red world he has been pulled into that he doesn’t understand. Walking through mirrors, conjuring objects from air, Wooyoung’s ridiculous laughter, Mars’ bright eyes.</p><p>His voice comes as little more than a sob, muffled further by the hands hiding his face. “I just want to know what’s going on.” He can feel Mars above him, looking down at him, though he doesn’t speak. “I wanted to win so I could understand.”</p><p>In the silence, the feeling of those bright eyes never leaves him, and for a long while they remain as they are, Hongjoong sitting with his head in his hands, his eyes tightly closed, Mars towering above him, a watchful, unmoving presence.</p><p>Mars sighs. </p><p>“Very well.”</p><p>There is an odd snapping sound, and Hongjoong jumps, his hands coming away from his face as he does so. The table that had been before them, and the marbles that had littered the floor, are gone. In their place is a chessboard, through the checkered surface is cobalt and crimson where it should be black and white.</p><p>"I don't want to play any of your games," Hongjoong bites, but Mars ignores him. He conjures a chair on the other side of the chessboard and sits.</p><p>The playing pieces are black, except for one white pawn, elegantly cut and wooden. Mars seems to be the only player, as there are no pieces sitting in front of Hongjoong for him to play against. </p><p>"Once upon a time," Mars begins, plucking the only white piece from his side of the board and setting it directly in the middle of the table, "there was a lonely little boy, and a house full of ghosts."</p><p>As Mars speaks, the pawn transforms into the silhouette of a boy. </p><p>"His parents had left him, with nothing but the clothes on his back to call his own, in the old house at the edge of town, where they knew no one would go looking for him."</p><p>Between them, the little wooden boy turns in a circle, and the other pieces watch, towering over him.</p><p>"The house was old and abandoned, and the villagers swore they could hear screams and creaks of things within its walls, evil, creeping things the boy had heard stories of, that would snatch babes from their cradles and eat them down to the bone."</p><p>The wooden boy steps closer to the other pieces, and at once they merge into a black wave that swirls in the air around him, separating again to surround him in a circle, ignoring now the squares of the board beneath them.</p><p>"The boy was afraid, but unharmed. He learned to live with the ghosts, and help them, and in turn they taught him to weave the red thread of the worlds about his fingers, to tug and pull and bend at will." </p><p>Mars plucks the boy from the board, and in his hand the piece is a pawn again, nothing more, and the other pieces have returned to their places before him.</p><p>"This is why the boy can do what he can do," he says softly, looking down at the pawn in his grasp. "How he builds himself a kingdom behind his eyes that other lost boys might stumble upon."</p><p>With a flicks of Mars’ wrist, the pawn disappears. The pale boy stares at the other over an empty chessboard.</p><p>“Is that what you wished to know?”</p><p>The red mark across his eye has grown brighter again, a bolder red, and Hongjoong imagines the color bleeding down his pale cheek and looks away.</p><p>“Am I dreaming?” he asks quietly.</p><p>“Yes and no.” Mars’ warm voice is tired, and he slumps in his chair. “Your body is, somewhere. But not because of me. Not because you’re here.”</p><p>Hongjoong rubs a hand over his face and perches on the end of his chair, leaning closer. “I was awake when I got here?”</p><p>“Yes,” Mars says.</p><p>The air leaves Hongjoong’s lungs in a rushed exhale, as if he’d been hit in the stomach. He knew it. He hadn’t been wrong.</p><p>“Every time?”</p><p>Now, Mars pauses. He waits long enough for Hongjoong to fear he’ll never answer, but then relents. “No."</p><p>Hongjoong thinks back to the first visit, how he couldn’t remember it until a while later. How the other visits had gotten easier to remember, as soon as he’d found himself back in his own world. What’s the difference?</p><p>He tries another question. “How do I get here? Sometimes I'm asleep, and sometimes I'm awake."</p><p>Mars rubs at his eyes. “You came here yourself, the first time,” he says, frowning in concentration. It’s difficult to remember, sometimes, the little details of things. “It happens, now and then. Sleeping, it is easier to pass through boundaries between worlds. Awake, your body might resist, as yours did when you passed through the mirror.” Mars pauses, loosing his train of thought for a moment. "It’s rare for someone to visit more than once. Even if they do, years pass before they come again.”</p><p>Mars’ fingers strum against the chessboard checks.</p><p>Hongjoong asks: “How many times have I been here?”</p><p>“Four. This is the fourth. You remember them all?”</p><p>Hongjoong nods.</p><p>The color has been slowly draining out of Mars, as they speak, and his fatigue seems to be growing. The mark across his eye has returned to its usual flush of red, and his pale eyes are pale again, no longer glowing. </p><p>“Is there something wrong?” Hongjoong is surprised at the worry twisting his stomach. Mars is strange and aloof, but perhaps not as much as he was before. “You don’t look like yourself.”</p><p>It is an echo of the things people have been telling Hongjoong recently, and Mars seems just as adverse to it. He scowls, but then sighs, and gives in to his tiredness.</p><p>“Today isn't a Maker Day,” is all he says, but somewhere along the way Hongjoong has started to understand what that means, and now he looks down at the unmoving chess pieces and board and sees the reason for Mars’ deterioration. When Wooyoung had passed through the mirror, he'd said it was a Maker Day, and the sky hasn't changed since Hongjoong got here, still a pale blue that's neither night nor morning. The Maker Day is over, somehow. One day had passed to the next without his realising.</p><p>How long has he been gone?</p><p>“I should let you rest.” Mars doesn’t argue, as Hongjoong stands, stepping away from the chessboard.</p><p>Hongjoong hesitates. He looks back to see Mars still watching him.</p><p>“Thank you,” Hongjoong says. “For telling me what you could.”</p><p>There is an odd look in Mars’ clever eyes. After a moment of thought, he nods, accepting the thanks, and in turn he offers: “Don’t go back through the mirror. Get San to show you out through the gates.”</p><p>Hongjoong thanks him again, and steps out of the tent as quietly as he can.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Lonely Boy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong wakes in a school hospital bed with Yunho sitting next to him.</p><p>He jolts, sitting up so quickly the room tilts around him, and blood rushes to his head. Yunho, casually flipping through a glossy magazine, doesn’t react, and there is no surprise in his voice when he speaks.</p><p>“You’re awake,” he notes, not looking up from his page. “I was starting to wonder whether you’d sleep forever.”</p><p>Hongjoong blinks at him, and Yunho at last meets his eye, grinning, and throws the magazine onto the end of Hongjoong’s bed. He passes Hongjoong a clear plastic cup half-filled with lukewarm water and asks: “How are you feeling?”</p><p>Accepting the water but not drinking it, Hongjoong attempts to keep the distrust from his expression. “What happened? Why am I in here?”</p><p>“You fainted,” Yunho says sympathetically. He taps the back of his hair. “Hit your head.”</p><p>Hongjoong sits back against the pillows. His head isn’t sore- it should be, if he really had fainted, and hit the hard linoleum of the restroom he’d been in. “You found me?”</p><p>Yunho nods. “In one of the bathrooms,” he adds, with a grimace that looks like it’s supposed to be some kind of in-joke between them. Maybe it isn’t. Maybe it’s just that the amusement never leaves his expression no matter what else the situation calls for. Even a grimace is a smile, to Yunho. </p><p> “Where’s Mingi?”</p><p>With a flick of his wrist, Yunho peers down at his watch, usually hidden by the edge of his sleeve. Now Hongjoong can see the violet face of it, with little silver cogs turning on the surface instead of hands. “Should still be in basketball tryouts. They said he’d be there for a while. Probably just an excuse to blow off classes, but...”</p><p>Hongjoong ignores the idea of Yunho knowing more about Mingi these days than he does- an exaggeration, most likely, but he can’t help but think it- and pushes himself up and out of the creaky bed in the school medic’s office.</p><p>“Right. Well, thanks, I suppose.”</p><p>It’s not much of a thank you, his voice too distracted and disinterested, but Yunho gives him a ten-watt grin anyway. A shiver runs across Hoongjoong’s skin, and he grabs his jacket where it’d been laid on the end of the bed as if he'd just felt cold.</p><p>“I should probably go home.”</p><p>“Probably,” Yunho agrees, putting his hands on the arms of his chair and pushing himself to his feet. “Or maybe you should wait for the medic. You’ve been like this for a while now, haven’t you?”</p><p>To any ear it would sound sincere, any ear but Hongjoong’s, who immediately discards the concern as he pulls on his jacket despite the heat of the stuffy room.</p><p>“How long was I out?”</p><p>Yunho checks his watch again. “An hour? Maybe a little more.”</p><p>With another thanks only slightly more convincing than the last, Hongjoong leaves Yunho in the medic’s office, half expecting him to follow, feeling a rush of relief when he’s alone in the empty hallways. The lunch period is well and truly over, so Yunho had been telling the truth about how long he’d been gone. His last class should be starting now. </p><p>But there are other things to think about, and he wouldn’t be able to focus even if he could force himself to go, so he makes his way to the exit instead.</p><p>There’s a cold breeze in the air now, chasing away the heat of the sun, and he pulls his jacket tighter around himself. He doesn’t know where his satchel has ended up, but he only notices it’s absence now, and he doesn’t care enough to turn back and search for it. Tomorrow. It can wait until tomorrow.</p><p>He stops, now he’s outside the building and the fresh air is starting to clear his head. He tries to orientate himself.</p><p>Today is Monday. It had been lunch break when he’d stepped into the mirror. Mars had told him he’d been dreaming, but not because he’d been in Mars’ world. He hadn't understood. He'd woken up in a medic’s bed with Yunho beside him. </p><p>Yunho has something to do with all of this. Hongjoong knows he does. He just doesn’t know <em> how </em> he knows. Hadn’t he always been wary of Yunho? Even before he’d found Mars, he’d been wary.</p><p>Maybe it’s just jealousy. Or desperation, trying to pin something on someone so he can pretend to know more than he does. </p><p>Or maybe it’s in Yunho’s smile. How it’s so charming until it lasts a beat too long. How it’s there even when it shouldn’t be. Maybe it’s in the way everyone else sees him, how quickly their minds change because of his quiet suggestions. Hongjoong’s teacher had done that, hadn’t he? Nodded along like everyone does when Yunho opens his mouth. It doesn’t seem as if it’s just Mars who can do as he pleases.</p><p>The wind bites with more vigour, and Hongjoong starts walking again, trying to trick some warmth into his limbs. There are a few people his age lounging around campus, huddled together on benches, smoke swirling around them.</p><p>Hongjoong gets to the gates, and freezes.</p><p>There’s a park just the other side of the road from their school. Mingi sometimes suggests walking through it for a change of scenery, though it’s a longer route than any of their usual ones. In front of the park there’s a solitary park bench, usually deserted, because it faces the road and the school and isn’t really in the park anymore. This time there’s someone sitting there, their chin tipped to the sun, their eyes closed against the brightness.</p><p>Hongjoong steps closer. There are only two lanes of road between them, so it’s easy to see the details now. </p><p>The boy on the bench has golden skin and dark hair pushed away from his face. He’s not dressed for the chill, though he doesn’t seem to mind the wind, in a dark shirt and tight jeans, one long leg crossed over the other at the ankles. As Hongjoong watches, he opens his eyes, squinting at the sky above him- his eyes are dark and sharp and clever.</p><p>It’s Mars.</p><p>The coloring is all wrong, too dark, and the red is gone. There's no mark across his eye, no blue to his eyes. It’s jarring to see him here, with the greenery of the park behind him and the cars racing between him and Hongjoong in dull silvers and blacks, but it’s definitely him. </p><p>His features are the same. The feeling in Hongjoong’s chest is the same.</p><p>Hongjoong takes a step forward and something grabs him. He yelps, but whatever has latched onto his wrist is strong, and it yanks him back through the gates and he finds himself crouched behind the half-wall he usually sits at with Mingi before he can escape the hold. Yeosang glares back at him, a finger raised to his lips in a plea for silence.</p><p>Slowly, Yeosang peers over the wall, and then drops to sit on the asphalt with a tortured sighing.</p><p>“What are you doing?” Hongjoong whispers, the low volume doing nothing to disguise the rage in his voice. When he looks across the top of the wall, the bench is empty, and Mars is gone. He turns back with something angry on his tongue, but Yeosang shoves him, and he falls. </p><p>“You were about to ruin everything,” Yeosang hisses. </p><p>“What are you talking about?” Yeosang’s scowling at him, really scowling, and Hongjoong feels his own anger transitions into confusion. “When I asked if you knew Mars, you ghosted. This kind of seems like you know him, Yeosang.”</p><p>Yeosang groans and buries his face in the sleeves of the dark hoodie he’s always wearing. He moves his hands up to flatten his hair, and then wrings his hands. With his hair tousled and the deep frown still on his face, paired with the usual dark circles under his dazed eyes, it’s easy for Hongjoong to see why other people avoid Yeosang. Even when no one really remembers the details of the old rumours, they believe there’s something <em> off </em> about him.</p><p>Hongjoong wonders why he isn’t afraid. He’d never went out of his way to avoid Yeosang, but now with this impossible secret they seem to share, there’s a kinship he can’t deny starting to grow as Yeosang looks back at him.</p><p>“That wasn’t Mars,” he says eventually, after nibbling his lip for what felt like an age, clearly hesitant to tell Hongjoong anything. “That was Seonghwa.”</p><p>“I know who I saw, Yeosang-” </p><p>“I’m not lying,” Yeosang says, with such ferocity Hongjoong’s voice cuts off. “I know you think that was Mars but it wasn’t.” Hongjoong shakes his head in frustration and makes to stand up, but Yeosang grabs his collar and drags him down again, forcing him to meet his eyes. “Mars doesn’t live in this world, Hongjoong. You should know that by now.”</p><p>Of course he does. Of course he knows that. His reaction when he’d seen him had surely shown that, how he’d locked up, unable to do anything but stare.</p><p>“Seonghwa.” Hongjoong tries the name on his tongue, hearing the unfamiliar rise and fall of it. </p><p>Yeosang nods, releasing him. “Who Mars is when he isn’t Mars.”</p><p>Golden skin. Dark hair. Lounging on a park bench, outside of school. Alone. It doesn't sound at all like Mars.</p><p><em>Seonghwa</em>. </p><p>“How do you know all of this?”</p><p>Asphalt grinds under Yeosang’s boots as he stands. Hongjoong copies him, seeing the wild paranoia returning to Yeosang’s eyes and knowing what he’ll say before he even opens his mouth.</p><p>It’s what he expects- “I’ve told you too much already.”</p><p>He’s already stepping away, and Hongjoong panics, jumping toward him. “Wait, you’re really not going to explain?”</p><p>“I can’t,” Yeosang says, shaking his head, turning away. </p><p>Hongjoong skips around him and stops him with a hand on his chest.</p><p>“<em>Can’t </em> or <em> won’t </em>?”</p><p>Yeosang looks down at his hand, and huffs. “Alright, I won’t!” He bats Hongjoong’s hand away, but steps closer, lowering his voice to an insistent whisper. “It won’t make any difference, don’t you see? You’ll forget. As soon as I tell you. Just like all the others.” </p><p>Resisting the urge to step away, Hongjoong frowns. “Why would I forget?”</p><p>As if he’d thought of anything but Mars and Mars’ world for weeks. As if he could stop replaying every word, every laugh, in his mind when he’s stuck here alone.</p><p>“You think I know about all this and haven't tried to tell anyone?" Yeosang asks impatiently. "You think it's normal for people to avoid me without remembering why they should? It’s what he does, Hongjoong.” Yeosang's dark eyes are glistening, wide with something that looks like fear, and Hongjoong feels himself tense as Yeosang looks about them.</p><p>“Who? Mars?” Yeosang shakes his head, and Hongjoong tries again. “Seonghwa?”</p><p>A group of students trail past them, their heads turning, surprised to see Yeosang talking with someone. Hongjoong doesn’t miss the way their eyes linger on him, and lifts his chin in the air. They look away, and as soon as they’re through the gates Yeosang takes Hongjoong’s shoulders in a tight grip.</p><p>“You want advice? Don’t let him know you’ve recognised him,” he urges, his gaze so intense his eyes look darker than usual, blacker than black. “Do you understand? Hongjoong, Seonghwa doesn’t know you. He’ll bolt if you approach him. You need to pretend like you don't recognise him. Can you do that, Hongjoong?”</p><p>His eyes draw naturally over to the gate, but before they can make it to the bench Yeosang is stepping into his line of sight, blocking his view. “But-”</p><p>“Seonghwa isn’t like Mars. He doesn’t remember you. You can’t confuse him.”</p><p>“But he was here,” Hongjoong says, feeling some strange desire in his gut, something like jealousy, something like disappointment. Yeosang knows more than he does, and Hongjoong doesn’t like it. Doesn’t like the idea that Yeosang could know enough about Mars to lecture him like this, to assumes Hongjoong knows nothing.</p><p>“Mars knows me,” he urges, the only thing he can offer.</p><p>Yeosang looks up at the sky, exasperated. “<em> Seonghwa doesn’t,</em>” he repeats, emphasising every syllable as if Hongjoong hadn’t heard him the first time. “You need to stay away from him, Joong.”</p><p>The strange feeling in the pit of Hongjoong’s stomach flares into something more violent, and his voice is hard and too loud, drawing eyes their way. “Why?”</p><p>His anger doesn’t sway Yeosang. He looks over Hongjoong quietly, biting at his lip, before he settles on the words he wants. “We don’t belong in their world.”</p><p>“You said <em> ‘their’ </em> that time.” Yeosang’s mouth snaps closed, and Hongjoong presses on, feeling a rush of satisfaction at asking the right question. Finally, <em> finally </em> the right question. “There’s someone else, isn’t there? The person you were talking about before, that makes people forget.”</p><p>“If you keep asking questions you’re going to get hurt.” He sees the way Hongjoong’s eyes flash, and winces. “That wasn’t a threat. I just mean- forget it. Seonghwa will disappear if you force him to talk and then Mars won’t be around anymore. I can’t tell you anything else. That’s just the way it is.”</p><p>When he steps away, this time, there’s a finality to it that Hongjoong doesn’t protest, and he watches the other boy stalk out of the school gates and pull the dark hood of his sweatshirt over his head. Hongjoong’s alone on the asphalt, again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Wiser to be Wary</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t see Mars for another few days, but he hadn’t expected to. </p><p>He’d been told too much, all at once, and Mars is no longer the invincible phantom figure he had been, even before Hongjoong had glimpsed Seonghwa by the park gates. The story he’d told Hongjoong around a chessboard has changed things, though Hongjoong is not entirely sure how. He just knows that when he closes his eyes, instead of darkness he sees a tiny wooden boy surrounded by swirling black shadows.</p><p>Mars doesn’t breach the subject, when eventually Hongjoong finds himself at the carnival again.</p><p>After seeing Seonghwa, Mars’ skin looks so pale, his hair so white, the mark across his eye so startlingly red, that Hongjoong can’t help but stare. Had Mars always looked like this? So very strange and ethereal and ghost-like? Hongjoong struggles against the idea of Mars as both the helpless boy in his imagination and the phantom before him.</p><p>Hongjoong isn’t afraid, has never really feared Mars, but he does wonder at his lack of fear, whether it would be wiser to be wary.</p><p><em> Seonghwa doesn’t remember you </em>, Yeosang had said. But Mars knows him. Does that mean Mars has been keeping the knowledge from Seonghwa, the other version of himself, the one that lives in Hongjoong’s world? How can one person be two people?</p><p>
  <em> We don’t belong in their world. </em>
</p><p>But if they live in ours, too, why wouldn’t we?</p><p>Worlds blur. Lines between worlds meet. Dreams fade into reality. One person can be two people. All kinds of impossible things happen here. Who’s to say what can be and what can’t?</p><p>“Loser loser!”</p><p>At Wooyoung’s shriek, Hongjoong startles, and looks around him to see three sets of curious eyes watching him. He’d been in the process of losing very spectacularly at a game of chess, before he’d gotten lost in his thoughts, mainly because Mars’ pieces keep animating themselves and shoving his off of the board in increasingly graphic ways. Though Hongjoong’s pieces on the board are familiar, the same plain cuts of wood he’d always played with, Mars’ had transformed into intricate little wooden people as soon as the game had begun.</p><p>Hongjoong looks down just in time to see one of Mars’ bishops walk towards his queen, stop, and rear up onto their tiny wooden toes before descending, arms raised, Hongjoong’s queen turning into red dust as the pieces fall.</p><p>Wooyoung claps enthusiastically and San, glancing at him, copies, his movements slower and clumsier, his eyes wide.</p><p>“You should learn to cheat,” Mars tells Hongjoong, with the air of someone distilling some desperately needed advice.</p><p>“Thanks,” Hongjoong says dryly, not missing how the sincerity of Mars’ voice doesn’t meet his smile. “I hadn’t thought of that.”</p><p>“Maker Day,” Wooyoung muses. Hongjoong bitterly wonders whether every day here is a Maker Day. “Mars can teach you.”</p><p>Hongjoong almost rolls his eyes, but then he registers the words more completely, and glances from Wooyoung’s excited smile to Mars’ more guarded expression.</p><p>“You could do that?” he asks, hating the eagerness in his voice. </p><p>“This is my world,” Mars says lazily. There’s no arrogance or pride in the words, as if it has been apparent for so long how much power he holds in this domain that it’s not important enough to brag about. Nothing impressive. Just something Mars. “I could teach you whatever I wished you to know.”</p><p>To hide the excitement he feels at the prospect, Hongjoong narrows his eyes. Something about Mars’ words had been tricky, slippery as ever. It hadn’t exactly been an offer.</p><p>
  <em> Whatever I wished you to know. </em>
</p><p>“You don’t want me to cheat?” Hongjoong guesses, already knowing he’s not right.</p><p>Mars raises one shoulder in something almost too careless to be a shrug. “Is it ever really cheating? This is my world. My rules. Cheating is just how to play the game, here.”</p><p>“Don’t you get tired of it, though? I can't cheat like you can. I don’t know how to play against you.”</p><p>This time, Mars’ voice is instilled with a childish kind of arrogance. “That hardly makes you special.”</p><p>Here it is. The opportunity Hongjoong had been wishing for. It’s almost impossible to control a conversation here, between Mars’ natural unpredictability, Wooyoung’s sudden, nonsensical interruptions, San’s distant silences. The question had battered around inside his head, every since Seonghwa’s appearance in his world, maybe even before then, with Mars’ offering a reluctant glimpse into the boy he’d been, with Yeosang’s fear and hysteric panic. Yunho’s pretty smile and candied words.</p><p>They fit together somehow. They must.</p><p>He takes a deep breath and steels himself for whatever is to come, and then he asks.</p><p>“Aren’t there any others like you?”</p><p>Hongjoong isn’t stupid. He’s had practice, too, at pretending everything is normal, that there is nothing going on in his mind that he would need to hide. But as soon as the question is hanging in the air between them, Mars goes silent, and painfully still. Wooyoung and San, behind him, are expressionless statues, and though Hongjoong hadn’t noticed them moving he could swear they are a few inches closer to the back of Mars’ chair.</p><p>Mars forces a smile that wavers on his lips. “Now why would you ask a question like that?”</p><p>Shrug. Pretend it was just a thought that popped into your mind. You didn't mean anything by it, and you don't understand his caution. Hongjoong does it all, going through the motions. Cheats in his own way.</p><p>“There are so many people here,” he says, vaguely gesturing to the world behind him. “But I’ve never spoken to any of them. Just the people in this tent.”</p><p>His gaze wander over San, dip to Mars staring back at him, lift up to meet Wooyoung’s eye.</p><p>“I don’t even know what <em>you</em> can do,” he continues, keeping his attention fixed on the boy in black. “Everything you’ve shown me has been Mars’ tricks.”</p><p> The chessboard between them disappears. In the time it had taken Hongjoong to blink, Mars had flicked his hand and it was simply gone, as if it had never been there in the first place.</p><p>“You’re tired,” Mars says, getting to his feet. “Perhaps it is time you were on your way.”</p><p>“I don’t feel tired, I feel fine.”</p><p>It’s a lie. Of course it’s a lie. But his body is awake, almost too awake, as if he'd had too much coffee and can feel the energy thrumming through his bloodstream. It's his mind that’s tired. Tired of the secrets, tired of not understanding, tired of longing to be here whenever he is not, tired of longing to be away from here, too, almost in the same moment. Hongjoong usually knows what he wants so easily.</p><p>Mars’ hand touches his shoulder and he starts. The words are out of his mouth before he’s had time to think them through, a desperate attempt to remain.</p><p>“Teach me a trick and I won't ask.”</p><p>Mars stops. His fingers are cool through Hongjoong’s thin t-shirt. </p><p>“A trick?”</p><p>“Anything,” Hongjoong says, hearing himself close to begging, feeling no shame under the overwhelming, angry curiosity. “Just a trick, and I won’t ask.”</p><p>He won’t stick to it. Surely Mars knows that too.</p><p>But cheating is the way to play the game, here, and if Mars catches the lie, he allows it.</p><p>“Very well.”</p><p>He crosses back to his chair on the other side of the desk but doesn’t sit. His hands perch lightly on the back of it.</p><p>“I want you to wake yourself up,” Mars says.</p><p>Hongjoong scowls. Even cheating, he hasn’t tipped the odds in his favour. Mars knows everything he doesn’t. If he wakes up now, he won’t have time to ask anything else. He can't learn anything if he isn't here, and Mars wants him gone. It stings, more than it should.</p><p>“I don’t want that trick.”</p><p>Mars stares back at him. “It’s the only one I’ll teach you.” <em> For now</em>. Hongjoong hears the silent end of Mars’ sentence and begrudgingly allows excitement to bubble through his blood.</p><p>He concedes. It’s hardly as if he has any other choice, when any of them could send him back so easily anyway.</p><p>“How do I do it?”</p><p>“If you can’t, you can’t,” Mars warns him. Hongjoong has grown so used to the strange language they use in this world, that he just nods.</p><p>“Then we’ll see,” he says. “Whether I can do it or not.”</p><p>He remembers the feeling that had flooded through him when he’d first found himself in front of the gates. The first time he’d seen the world beyond come into being, the first time he’d seen red clouds of color floating past him in lazy formation, the first time his eyes had met Mars’ and he’d woken, shaking, in his own bed. He remembers the first time he’d watched Mars work, the first time the clever, impossible tricks had had a master, a face, that he could see. Water turning to glue, mirrors into silver, chess pieces coming alive. The feeling he’d had when he’d seen the world a little clearer around him. The empty pit it had made in his stomach when he’d been gone. How he’d started to miss the pale, sunless sky above him.</p><p>Mars watches him as if he’s sharing the memories, seeing everything through Hongjoong’s eyes, new and exciting and magic.</p><p>“We’ll see,” he agrees.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Maker Day</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>“I’ve never done this before,” Mars says quietly. He circles where Hongjoong sits behind the desk, his fingers grazing first the desktop and then the back of Hongjoong’s shoulders, a barely-there sensation cold through the thin fabric of his shirt. “I might not be a very patient teacher.”</p><p>Though something within him recoils at the idea, Hongjoong forces himself to nod. “I still want you to teach me.”</p><p>Mars hums, stepping back behind the other side of the desk, San and Wooyoung silent statues over his shoulders. “As you wish.”</p><p>Instead of taking his seat, he perches on the desk, swinging his legs around so they dangle in front of Hongjoong. This close, Mars seems to radiate a kind of energy, the same chill his touch sends down Hongjoong’s spine hanging in the air between them. Hongjoong imagines reaching out, letting it soak through his fingertips, grabbing a fistful of bubbling air, breathing it in, swallowing it, letting it fill his lungs, his stomach, imagining it like a lightning bolt jolting his system awake. Instead, he waits, and Mars eyes every inch of him with a thoughtful quiet.</p><p>“Perhaps we need a fail-safe,” he says eventually, half turning his face to Wooyoung behind him. “Fetch one of Venus’ concoctions.” </p><p>The other boy nods, and strides from the tent, though only seconds pass before he’s returning, a glass in his hand. It’s shaped like a champagne flute, and the liquid inside it is effervescent and violet- familiar. It’s the same as the drink San had offered him the second time he’d found himself beyond the gates. Wooyoung had slapped it out of his hands.</p><p>“What is it?”</p><p>“Our fail-safe,” Mars says, taking the glass and setting it delicately on the desk at his side. “Should you get yourself stuck, for instance, I might only do more damage in retrieving you again. But if I give you this-” he taps the rim of the glass “-you will likely wake up undamaged, on the other side.”</p><p>“<em> Likely </em>?”</p><p>“I don’t remember saying this would be easy. If you don’t want to learn-”</p><p>“I do.” Mars raises a brow at Hongjoong’s outburst. Softer, he repeats, “I want to.” His mouth is suddenly dry, and he wets his lips, feeling his eyes drawn to the glass. “They said I wasn’t ready for it. Before.”</p><p>Mars glances at Wooyoung and San behind him. Though his expression hardly changed, Hongjoong gets the impression that Mars hadn’t known about the first time Hongjoong had been offered the drink. When he turns back to Hongjoong, he tips his head.“Perhaps you are now,” he muses. “With every visit your mind should be more accustomed to the fracture.”</p><p>Fractured. That’s the word for it- how Hongjoong feels one half of him longing to remain, to see the sunless sky and crimson of everything in this world, and one half fears it. Like he’s two people, two versions of himself, though he isn’t entirely sure, anymore, which one had come first.</p><p>He eyes the violet liquid within the glass. Though he has a feeling he already knows, he asks anyway, just to see whether Mars will tell him.</p><p>“Who’s Venus?”</p><p>Mars’ lips quirk. “A friend.”</p><p>“I’ve never saw you with any friends.”</p><p>“A busy friend.” He sounds amused, but Hongjoong can sense there is another reason for him to dodge the questions, can sense the closing of a door if he keeps pushing. He’s been given too much already, and Mars’ patience is fraying, and the glimpse Hongjoong has been given of <em> something more </em> has set him on edge.</p><p>One more question, though, just in case.</p><p>“From this world?”</p><p>A shadow crosses Mars’ expression. “Enough questions.”</p><p>Hongjoong settles back into his chair, not bothering to hide his annoyance. Mars ignores it as if it isn’t there, anyway.</p><p>“Close your eyes,” he says.</p><p>Hongjoong imagines opening them again to find himself in his own bedroom.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>Mars bristles. “It isn’t a trick. Close your eyes.”</p><p>Reluctantly, Hongjoong lets his eyes fall closed. With them shut, the sensation of Mars’ eyes roaming his face is only more apparent, and the crackling in the air around him more palpable.</p><p>“Let’s start with a question. I want you to tell me whether you’re dreaming or not, on the other side.”</p><p>Hongjoong frowns, just catching himself before he opens his eyes. He keeps them closed, hearing Mars tut at the mistake. He thinks about it.</p><p>The word <em> dreaming </em> means something different here. They’re trying to wake him up, and yet that doesn’t necessarily mean that wherever he is in the other world, he’s actually asleep. Mars had said it was more complicated than that. Sometimes, like the first time, it’s in dreams that Hongjoong manages to find himself here, though often his body will wake up shortly after, wherever it is in his world. <em> Waking up </em>here is less regaining consciousness than it is <em> going back, </em> finding his other body again, where it should be. </p><p>It’s an impossible question about an impossible thing. He can’t be two places at once.</p><p>And yet, after a moment of searching, Hongjoong knows the answer.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>If he tries, focuses every strand of his concentration on finding that other half of himself where he left it, he can sense it, the awakeness, the standing, staring into space, letting time pass him. He’s awake, but not aware. He wonders whether it’s like that every time, his body staring blindly, motionlessly, in place as whatever part of him survives here, in Mars’ world, lives for him.</p><p>“Very good,” Mars praises. “In the other world, your body is awake. It will be harder to return on your own.”</p><p>Hongjoong grinds his teeth and sits straighter. “Tell me how.”</p><p>For a moment, there’s nothing, and then Hongjoong jolts as Mars takes one of his hands in both of his own. A chill freezes its way up Hongjoong’s arm. </p><p>“In time,” Mars begins, as he manipulates Hongjoong’s arm and Hongjoong feels a strange sensation snake around his wrist, “you might be taught to weave the red threads yourself, but for now, I will find them for you. Hold still.”</p><p>Hongjoong urges his heart to stop pounding so violently against his ribs and forces himself into stillness. He lets Mars wrap the chilling threads around his wrist, first one and then the other, rope digging into the soft flesh. Were he to open his eyes, he knows he won’t see anything, but when Mars releases him gently and he tugs, he feels the bonds resist his pull.</p><p>“Careful,” Mars breathes. </p><p>The threads around his wrists constrict, and Hongjoong gasps. He freezes, and they relent, and Mars takes one of his wrists again and forces the heat back into Hongjoong's fingers with his own, bending Hongjoong’s wrist, manoeuvring his arm. The threads no longer protest the movement, when Mars is involved, and Hongjoong focuses his attention on the weight of them. Mars has twined a few smaller threads around his fingers, and he feels one running past him, just grazing the side of his neck, not connected but close, tickling against his skin.</p><p>“One of these threads is the connection you are looking for,” Mars says. “Your connection to the world you know, where you’re hoping to return.”</p><p>They all feel the same. The thin threads at his fingers, the thicker ones at his wrist, they’re all the same, smooth and cold like strands of ice, or glass, fluid when Mars coaxes them into movement. They have the same cold energy that Mars does, stealing the heat from Hongjoong’s skin, the air from his lungs, and he feels panic threaten to wash over him as they tighten. He fights against it, taking a huge gulp of air that burns the back of his throat with the cold, and tries to find the same connection he’d found with his body. It’s there, in a far corner of his consciousness, the outline of himself viewed from a distance, and he clings to it.</p><p>“Breathe,” Mars reminds him, and Hongjoong fills his aching lungs with air. “One of the threads is yours. You need only find which one.”</p><p>He tests the threads at his wrist and feels nothing as they fight him. The thread encircling the thumb of his left hand hardly responds at all to his movement, or his thoughts, and he discards it. He cranes his neck, but the thread running past him shocks his skin, and he recoils.</p><p>“Focus,” Mars breathes, and his voice is already far away. Hongjoong reacts to it, as he always does, leaning closer, and the thin thread around his smallest finger loosens. The slide of it against his skin sends a bolt of energy through him, pricking like needles, not quite painful, not quite welcome. There. </p><p>“This one,” he says, and instantly the other threads fall away at Mars’ command.</p><p>“That one,” Mars agrees. “That one belongs to you.”</p><p>Hongjoong tests it, pulling, letting it loosen, feeling how it doesn’t fight him as the others had.</p><p>“You might learn to bend the others to your will in time, but it will take practice. For now, this one is yours, and it will do as you will it.”</p><p>Without thinking why, Hongjoong twists his wrist, letting the thread tangle up his arm, bringing it closer so more of its length ensnares him.</p><p>“Tell it what you wish to happen. Concentrate.”</p><p>Something begins to unravel in the back of Honjoong’s mind. He feels his thoughts turn from the boy on the other end of the thread, feels the new thing within him latch onto another idea, the barest silhouette before him. He almost opens his eyes, afraid of this new thing growing within his chest, but then he steels himself, and lets it wash over him. The nervousness and fear are chased away, and in their place is certainty, and a love for the thread that tangles him, no longer just his fingers and his wrists but his waist, his ankles, his neck, keeping him in place. He breathes deep, feels his limbs relax, his mind clear of all but the desire he pours into the thread, bending it away from himself. Somewhere, distantly, a warning sounds, though he doesn’t know whose voice it is that calls it. </p><p>He whispers his wish silently, willing it into being, and when he opens his eyes, two pairs of eyes blink back at him.</p><p>Wooyoung’s mouth is open, his eyes wide and round and darting around the room. San’s eyes never leave Hongjoong’s, sharp and bright, his dazed expression ruptured, in its place the more intense, wilder side he rarely shows, a keen understanding verging on hostile.</p><p>Mars is gone.</p><p>Hongjoong jumps to his feet, toppling the chair behind him. “What did I do?”</p><p>“Maker Day,” Wooyoung breathes, his voice little more than air, and somehow Hongjoong knows, as they stare back at him and the world is quiet, that the Maker they’re talking about isn’t Mars.</p><p>“What did I do, how do I fix this?”</p><p>Wooyoung shakes his head, still staring at the spot where Mars had been. “You sent him back.”</p><p>“Back <em> where </em>?”</p><p>A little spark of panic lights in Wooyoung’s eyes as Hongjoong steps closer, and his expression twists into an irritated pout. “Shouldn’t ask if he already knows!”</p><p>“You sent him,” San urges. “You already know where he is.”</p><p>The moment's gone. The surety that Hongjoong had found trapped away in his chest has left him, seeped away as quickly as it had arrived, and what’s left is a boy, confused and frightened of the thing that had loosened inside him, fractured, staring at the empty desk where Mars had sat only moments ago and remembering the wish he’d whispered to himself. It had happened. It had happened because of him.</p><p>“I woke him up.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Here-names, There-names</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The violet liquid is still scalding his tongue when Hongjoong wakes on the other side. <em>His</em> side, at school, his legs colliding with a metal bed frame as he crashes to his knees, his body toppling, suddenly aware of its surroundings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s in the medical room. A tall figure is sprawled elegantly on the chair by the bed, flipping through a magazine. It’s almost a carbon copy of the day Hongjoong had stepped into the mirror and woken up here, though the bed is made and Hongjoong had been standing beside it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, Hongjoong doesn’t wait for the friendly conversation to begin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grabs Yunho by his shirt and pulls him to his feet, shoving him backwards into the wall with a forearm against his throat. The taller boy must be strong enough to break the hold, but he lets himself be pushed around, his back colliding with the brick, tipping his head to look down at Hongjoong holding him, his expression somewhere between innocent surprise and a sly, knowing amusement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Awake at last,” he notes, his tone far too friendly for someone backed into a corner, and Hongjoong gives him a rough shove backwards.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quit it. You’re Venus, aren’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yunho’s grin grows, one side lifting higher than the other as his eyes burn into Hongjoong’s. “I don’t think I know what you’re talking about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t lie to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re making a lot of demands, Hongjoong,” Yunho muses. A different kind of amusement crosses over his features, like a wild thing playing with his food, and it reminds Hongjoong so much of Mars that he almost loosens his grip. “You might find me more willing if you ask politely. We can have a friendly conversation, can’t we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That strange will Hongjoong had found in Mars’ tent sounds in the back of his mind, tempts and warns him in equal measure, and after a moment he gives in, releasing Yunho’s collar with a frustrated grunt and stepping back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yunho grins, full-watt, and rights his clothes. The violet of his watch flashes in the light as he lowers his arms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why didn’t you tell me your real name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yunho shrugs, abandoning the pretence now he sees it won’t work. He slides back into the chair and fixes Hongjoong with his usual amused interest, unshaken. “Venus isn’t my real name. Just one of many. Just the name for me in Mars’ world.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did I get here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yunho arches a brow. “You were on your way to class when you clocked out. Started staring at walls, not responding.” Yunho laughs, an inappropriately sincere sound for this situation, as he remembers something. “I told one of the nurses you were having a seizure. She believed me. I also told her I knew how to help you, and would you believe it, she believed that <em>too</em>.” He eyes Hongjoong curiously, and Hongjoong gets the oddest impression of a cat, trapping a mouse under its paw. “Good thing you weren’t actually having a seizure, huh? I would </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> be qualified to help you-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know what happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yunho- Venus- cuts himself off, his smile wavering. “You sent him back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Back here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Venus spreads his hands out where they hang from the armrests. “Looks like it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But he wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Hongjoong clarifies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yunho’s ten-watt smile returns in its brightest form. “Why would he be here, silly boy? It wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> body here. Just yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So where is he?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How should I know?” Yunho laughs. “I was here making sure no one saw you when you decided to-” he raises his hand to his head and then above it, wiggling his fingers "-clock out." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hongjoong scowls. “It wasn’t planned.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Clearly.” Yunho's eyes glint. “Mars seems to have taken a liking to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That unfamiliar feeling threatens- Hongjoong feels himself tense, on edge instantly at the tone of Yunho’s voice, teasing, knowing, effortlessly pressing pressure points for fun. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, too defensively, only making Yunho more amused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you even remember walking to school this morning, Hongjoong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. No he doesn’t. He hadn’t had the faintest idea what his body was doing when he’d been with Mars. Had he even thought about it? Had he cared?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you had found your way to Mars by yourself,” Yunho asks, “don’t you think you would remember it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hongjoong throws his hands in the air. “How else would I have gotten there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s sent the boys to fetch you before, hasn’t he? Did you never stop to wonder whether he might be able to pull you there without them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The idea is disquieting and thrilling, so instead of wondering at its answer, Hongjoong asks: “Do you ever ask questions you don’t know the answer to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yunho breathes a laugh, that same gleam in his eye. “Now where’s the fun in that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hongjoong bites the inside of his cheek, still possessing enough restraint to know he shouldn’t push Yunho too far. He tries to school his features, a neglected piece of information resurfacing in his mind, just another reason to be cautious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this how it works, then? You see how much I know so you can take it all away?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Yunho says immediately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you to stop lying, didn’t I? It won’t do you any good. A friend of yours has already warned me about you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hongjoong thinks of the dark circles under Yeosang’s distracted eyes, the gazes that had clung to them when they’d been spotted talking on campus, the rumours and paranoia and fear, and suddenly Yunho’s pretty smiles aren’t so pretty anymore. His skin crawls, and it’s harder to look back at Yunho’s bright eyes, but he tries. He holds the gaze as Yunho’s eyes search his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It seems we have a lot of mutual friends, you and I.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His smiles are getting less convincing with every question, but Hongjoong knows at any moment Yunho could switch back to his usual charm. He wonders just how much sway he’d have- though he’d saw it clearly, how Yunho could talk people out of things, put words in their mouths, charm or confuse them, he’d never felt the effects himself. Well, that he could remember.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wonders what he has to say for Yunho to drop that smile completely, and that dark corner of his mind gives him the answer, something to say, something he hadn’t realised he’d known all this time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you take Yeosang the way Mars took me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smile slips, and some deeper part of Hongjoong is delighted, though on the surface he wishes he could take it back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mars didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>take</span>
  </em>
  <span> you,” Yunho bites, “not the first times, not until now. You just showed up and he didn’t have enough sense to send you away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hongjoong shakes his head, feeling a smile of his own tug at his lips. “That wasn’t an answer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yunho ducks his head, though Hongjoong isn’t sure whether he’s trying to hide his smile or the look that flickers in his eyes. One hand goes to his wrist, toying with the face of his watch. “So what if I did?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s so much Hongjoong wants to ask, but surprisingly, the first thing he feels at being proven right is an indignant wash of fury on Yeosang’s behalf. “Why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like beautiful things,” Yunho shrugs. “Is that not reason enough?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hongjoong doesn’t find it convincing. “Is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Careful</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Hongjoong,” Yunho says, and somehow the softness of his voice is worse than the anger. “I don’t know what Yeosang told you, but you should understand I can do things that even your precious Mars couldn’t dream of. I’d watch your tongue.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That darker part of Hongjoong whispers for more, for yelling, for chaos, for messy arguments even if he has no chance of winning, but he smothers it, feeling his terror at realising Mars was gone returning tenfold. “What do I have to do?” he asks, swallowing his pride. “I want to remember. I want to find him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You won’t find Mars here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know- he’s-he’s-” he grumbles as he searches for the name Yeosang had told him, that dangles just out of reach- “he’s Seonghwa here, I know. I just need to find him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yunho stares at him for a long moment, his grin firmly back in place, a charming flash of white teeth that lights his face, and then he gets to his feet, slowly. “You’re causing complications, Hongjoong,” he says as he stands. “You’re playing with things you can’t control.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hongjoong thinks of Wooyoung and San standing behind an empty chair, mirrored expressions of shock on their mischievous faces. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have more control than you think.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yunho laughs softly, one breath of sound. “One impressive feat does not equal control. You don’t even know your own name, silly boy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lie</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the voice whispers. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cheat</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s the only way you’ll win, just like in one of Mars’ games.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yunho raises a brow. “You do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My name, I know it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re not talking about his name here. They’re talking about his </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mars</span>
  </em>
  <span>, his </span>
  <em>
    <span>Venus</span>
  </em>
  <span>. His There-name.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“OK,” Yunho grins. He steps forward, so there’s only a pace or two between them, and crosses his long arms. His smile is playful, though his eyes hold a challenge. “Let’s make a deal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a terrible idea. Something tells him Venus’ deals are just as bad as Mars’ games, not made for someone like him, someone from his world. But Hongjoong’s been feeling less </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span> and more </span>
  <em>
    <span>there</span>
  </em>
  <span> for a while now, and just like Mars’ games and Wooyoung’s nonsense and San’s terrible wildness, Hongjoong feels the pull of a deal with Venus as an inevitable force, gravity pulling him always towards the spark of something <em>more</em>. Even in this world, the one he’s known his entire life, he’s seeking out signs of the other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You tell me your name,” Venus says, obviously amused, “and I won’t make you forget. You get to remember it all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can do it. It has to be somewhere. Some corner of the darkness in his mind must have ownership of it, that part of him must have a name. What was it San had said, when he’d first asked their names?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m Hongjoong.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No you’re not.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He is. In this world, he is, but in the other one, the one where Mars rules over his little crimson kingdom, he’s something else, isn’t he? Someone else. It hovers on the edge of his consciousness, the name that’s attached to him, half of him, the half he’s more distant from now. But if the little voice can whisper in the back of his mind, and the dark feeling in his chest remains, the barest hint of the boy he’d become for a moment when he’d sent Mars away, then he’s not one or the other- he’s both at once.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And with that, his name comes easy to his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mercury.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Curiosities</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>The fury he’d imagined this would invite never comes- alarmingly, Venus blinks down at him, startled, and then doubles over with roarous laughter.</p><p>“I must admit,” he says as he straightens, his laughter still bubbling through the gaps in his words, “that I was perplexed at Mars’ interest in you until now.” He appraises Hongjoong for a moment, though the smaller boy is well aware that he’s glowering. “It seems I’ve misjudged you. Mercury,” he says, the word rolling more naturally from his tongue than it had Hongjoong’s, embedded with a deeper power than it had held when formed by Hongjoong’s voice. “Mercury indeed.” </p><p>“I did as you asked,” Hongjoong reminds him, impatient with the thrill of his name still buzzing around his skull. “I’m leaving, with everything I came here with.”</p><p>Venus waves away his firmness with an elegant flick of his wrist. “I won’t touch your memories. Trust that I keep the bargains I strike.”</p><p>Hongjoong bites back the urge to scoff. “I don’t.”</p><p>But Venus doesn’t stop him as he heads for the door, and outside in the empty corridor Hongjoong takes off for the school’s exit uninhibited, not even the now-so-familiar feeling of eyes tracking his progress. It’s out the doors and into the noon sun, the soles of his shoes slapping asphalt, spinning as the breeze chills through his skin and seeing no one outside the building or within. He turns out the gates, suddenly realising that this newfound freedom leaves him with only himself and his lack of planning, and his steps halt, bringing him to a stop just as he had meant to cross the street to the park bench he’d seen Seonghwa sitting at. </p><p>He takes a breath and focuses on the feeling of the breeze, the crunch and grind of the asphalt beneath him, the sunlight warming his skin, letting the sensations ground him. Concentrating stills his anxious nerves just slightly, enough to truly realise the desperation of his situation for the first time. He had been so set on the idea of finding Mars in whatever form he could that he hadn’t even begun to consider how he could possibly succeed in such a search. Venus had given him no clue as to where Mars would wake, and the only place in this world Hongjoong knew Mars had any connection to is the park bench on the other side of the street, and it’s vacant. </p><p>It’s the only thing he can think to do, so he obeys the sudden urge to cross the street and take the seat himself, turning his face to the sun, trying his best to imitate the way Mars had looked when Hongjoong had spotted him here. Unsurprisingly, his new position inspires no new epiphanies, but the impression of Mars' presence he imagines in this spot at least wills his mind a little further to where it needs to be, his thoughts straying to the boundary between <em> here </em> and <em> there </em>, the dark corner of his mind whispering in a volume that competes with his usual better judgement.</p><p><em> Mercury</em>. Having a name for who he’d been in those quick moments when the threads had finally bent to his will is drug-like, and he curls his fingers into his palms to keep them from shaking, feeling calm and chaos mingling somehow within him. It’s a jarring feeling, to comprehend the split inside him more than he ever has, to have a name for this other side that had been hidden, but at the same time it’s pleasant, like the chill that had stung his tongue as cherry-red candy floss had dissolved on his tongue. It’s the same sting across his skin that he feels with Mars’ proximity, though now he is alone, and the energy causing the feeling is entirely his own.</p><p>Mercury. Liquid silver, like the mirror Hongjoong had passed through to Mars’ world. Mars had known, and he’d been leaving hints.</p><p>What other hints had he been leaving that Hongjoong has been blind to?</p><p>He plows through every interaction they’ve had, replays every word again and again, but there’s nothing, no clue he can find, no line he can follow that would lead him straight to Mars. Though he tries until a sweat breaks across his forehead, the red threads also remain out of his reach. He doesn’t even know if they can be used in this world- if they can, he still hasn’t the skill to pluck them from the air and command them. He’d need Mars for that.</p><p>Yeosang might know something. </p><p>He’d been the one to tell Hongjoong Mars’ other name, the one to plant the fear of forced forgetfulness in Hongjoong’s mind. But that same fear has deeper roots in Yeosang’s muddled mind, and even if Hongjoong asks, he won’t get an answer. He’s on his own.</p><p>But it would be ridiculous to assume he’d rendered Mars hopeless when he’d sent him here. Mars has an infinitely more skilful grasp on the boundaries between their worlds- for all Hongjoong knows, he might be back at Wooyoung’s side already, perhaps waiting for Hongjoong to return. </p><p>He won’t be pleased to see him. Would he?</p><p>Hongjoong puzzles it over, ignoring the awkward twist of guilt in his gut. He’d played Mars’ game, twisted the outcome in his own favour. He should have woken up on this side alone, but he’d pushed Mars out of his own world instead. The tactic seems like something Mars would appreciate, but maybe only if it hadn’t been used against himself. Whether Mars would allow him back at all is in the balance, relying on Mars’ good graces or short temper, depending on the outcome.</p><p>If he isn’t certain Mars remains here, then, Hongjoong thinks, perhaps the better idea would be to go back himself. If Mars isn’t there, he’ll at least know for sure what world to look for him in. Wooyoung and San could help, if he could convince them to. </p><p>Just as he gets to his feet, debating whether a mirror or a bed would better serve his purposes, a tall figure comes leaping toward him from the school gates. Mingi’s instantly recognisable form is so familiar to Hongjoong he identifies his friend in the split second he has to catch his eye before a double-decker bus slides between them and blocks their view of each other. Hongjoong throws himself from the bench and around the nearest tree so quickly it's as if a puppeteer had commanded his movements. When the road clears, he watches behind his hiding place as Mingi glances around him and starts up the road toward Hongjoong’s house, getting further and further from Hongjoong’s impromptu hiding spot just inside the boundaries of the park.</p><p>Hongjoong exhales loudly, slumping. He hadn’t intended to avoid Mingi, but now his instincts have taken over and made the decision for him, he’s relieved. There’s no possible way to explain what has been happening to him. Every visit with Mars or Venus, every hushed conversation with Yeosang builds on his guilt, tests his conscience. But he never manages to sort through his thoughts enough to come up with a reasonable explanation for his sudden disappearances or dazed expressions, how the dark circles under his eyes never seem to fade. Mingi’s worry is something he has shelved for so long in his almost destructive self preservation, assuring his health after all the usual late nights with little sleep and far too much caffeine making him tremble, as he’d frantically pulled his fraying seams back together, had long since become the norm. He’d learned to keep things from Mingi for his own good, for their mutual benefit. But this feels different. </p><p>This feels like something that should be kept a permanent secret. It’s hardly his story to tell, and Mingi has never met Mars, nor has Hongjoong ever wondered at the possibility of such a meeting. Mingi exists very firmly in this world, in Hongjoong's mind. And if he would admit it to himself, that there is a fierce possessiveness in him now when he thinks about Mars’ world and everything he has discovered he can do there, it is only half of the issue. Mingi would never believe him. It’s as simple as that. To risk their friendship over something still so new and incomprehensible would be careless. Pointless. Lying isn't easy, but it's at least the easier option. Avoidance won’t make their relationship better, and will really only make Mingi suspicious. Later, he can put on the guise of feeling content and unchanged, spin some all-too-familiar promise of taking better care of himself. Now, there is too much swirling inside him, too much to do, and he makes sure that Mingi is out of sight before he steps out of his hiding place and rushes back through the school gates. </p><p>It’s probably ridiculous to assume that the bathroom Wooyoung and San had appeared in is anything special, but he makes sure it’s the same one anyway, his reflection blinking back at him in the same mirror they’d travelled through. Feeling foolish, he reaches out and raps it with his knuckles, feeling no give beneath his touch- as it should be, it’s solid and cool and unmalleable. Mars would make quick work of it. It’d be just another trick to him, one careless wave of a hand, barely a thought, but to Hongjoong it’s as impossible as it’s ever been. The voice inside his head that had whispered power is gone as if it had never been there, and in its absence remains a quick, deep panic. If it goes silent, will it speak up again? What if he’d never find that part of himself again without Mars’ help?</p><p>“Need a hand?”</p><p>Hongjoong jolts, instinctively leaping away from the voice that had suddenly echoed across the tile. Venus grins down at him, arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe with the closed door behind him. Stopping people from entering, or stopping Hongjoong from leaving.</p><p>“Haven’t you toyed with me enough?” Hongjoong bites. “I won’t be your entertainment.”</p><p>“You’re not doing a very good job of ‘entertaining’ as you stand around hopelessly and wait for someone else to do something useful,” Venus says dryly, “but it’s hardly as if I have anything better to do with my time.” He fixes the sleeve of his shirt so it covers his watch, a habit Hongjoong only now realises he’s seen countless times. It’s not as if he remembers Yunho doing it, exactly, just a strange deja vu as he watches, somehow knowing it’s a frequent motion he should have noticed before. </p><p>“You’re not from Mars’ world, are you?”</p><p>“If I were, it wouldn’t be <em> Mars’ </em> world.”</p><p>Ignoring the irritating amusement Venus doesn’t bother hiding at Hongjoong’s clumsy questions, he steps away from the mirror and turns his full attention on Venus. It’s most likely already painfully clear what Hongjoong had been trying to do with the mirror, but he doesn’t want to give Venus another excuse to laugh at him, so he abandons the idea and focuses his attention instead on conversation. Venus is far more talkative than Mars has ever been. If he talks enough, he might say something useful.</p><p>“So what’s yours like?”</p><p>Venus narrows his eyes, though his smile keeps the gesture from looking hostile. “My…?”</p><p>“World.”</p><p>“Ah,” Venus breathes. He considers the question for a beat just long enough that Hongjoong thinks he might actually answer it, but then asks: “What makes you think I have one?”</p><p>Hongjoong shrugs, struggling to keep up the nonchalant politeness that loosens Venus’ tongue. “Mars has one. You’re like Mars, aren’t you?”</p><p>“I don’t entirely see the similarity, but I suppose you’re not wrong.” He uncrosses his arms, though he stays leaning against the doorway. “I have somewhere to disappear to just like Mars has made for himself.”</p><p>“But you said your name is only Venus in Mars world,” Hongjoong presses, “so you can visit each other, right?”</p><p>Venus inclines his head in something that’s almost invested enough to be a nod. “Just as we can travel from this world to our own.”</p><p>Mars had called Venus a friend. Another puzzle piece slots itself into order in Hongjoong’s mind, and as speaks the revelation as it hits him. “You could take me to Mars’ world.”</p><p>“If I wanted to,” Venus concedes, in a way that makes it clear how little he wishes to cooperate.</p><p>“What would I have to do to convince you?”</p><p>Venus laughs derisively and shakes his head, almost fondly, the way a person would treat a troublesome pet. “More than you're able.”</p><p>“You won’t help me?”</p><p>“No.” There’s a note of finality to his voice so strong that instantly Hongjoong’s stomach sinks, another idea exhausted with little progress. “Not in this way. It isn’t my place to offer tickets to a place Mars has created as his haven.”</p><p>“But I really need to get back to him.”</p><p>Hongjoong can feel the question coming, but Venus lets the anticipation of it stretch for a long while, grinning down at Hongjoong for precious silent seconds before eventually he stops making him wait, and asks.</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>In the quiet, Hongjoong had tried to think up a clever lie. His mind conjures every possible excuse it, but in the end, there’s only one answer.</p><p>“I just do.”</p><p>He’s out of place here, an automaton made with the wrong parts, working through the motions he always had with clumsy, jolting awkwardness, feeling the need to be somewhere else like a physical thing in his chest, eating at him with a ravenous hunger. He needs to feel the way he’d felt the instant the threads around his wrists had started to make sense, the first time he’d tapped into the electric energy he’d always felt around Mars and saw it as his own, too, to be controlled and centred where he pleased.</p><p>There are other reasons too, and the gleam in Venus’ eyes as he studies Hongjoong make it clear they haven’t gone unnoticed, either.</p><p>“You don’t seem concerned for him,” Hongjoong says, before Venus can voice any of the teases clearly on the tip of his tongue.</p><p>“It would take more than an unexpected relocation to cause Mars any lasting harm,” Venus chuckles. The idea that Mars would be vulnerable to anything- particularly anything within Hongjoong’s limited capabilities- seem only to add to his good humour. Hongjoong wonders whether ‘friend’ had been a euphemism, for whatever lies between Mars and Venus, but even as he thinks it he knows he’s wrong. He can tell that Venus, in his own strange way, feels some kind of kinship with Mars, though it’s still difficult to understand.</p><p>“I just wanted to see whether I could do it,” Hongjoong mumbles, sobered by the idea that Venus has known Mars so much longer and so much deeper than he does. “I didn’t really want to send him back.”</p><p>Venus’ grin quirks. “Now who’s lying to who?” he asks, his voice warm, nearly cooing.</p><p>“I’m not-”</p><p>“I know you didn’t want him here,” Venus interrupts. “Because here he’s Seonghwa, and Seonghwa doesn’t know you. Nor will he be able to show you more of Mars world, or teach you any new tricks. But you didn’t send him back because you wanted to test your limits. Even though you know Seonghwa won’t know you, a small part of you <em> did </em> want him here.”</p><p>“Why would I banish Mars here if I knew Seonghwa wouldn’t remember me?”</p><p>Venus lifts a shoulder in a shrug, but the spark that lights in his eyes is anything but nonchalant. “Curiosity is a powerful thing,” he says. “Seonghwa might not know you, but you want him to. You know you’ll never get that chance if Mars remains in control.”</p><p>“If you know so much why’ve you refused to be of any help?” Hongjoong growls.</p><p>Venus hums a laugh, and stands straight, pushing himself off of the door frame. “Curiosity," he repeats. "Make this a test, Hongjoong, and we’ll see whether you’re worthy of the company you're trying so hard to keep.”</p><p>Between one second and the next, he’s gone, vanishing in the time it takes Hongjoong to blink. Hongjoong steps forward in his surprise, as if meaning to chase after him, wherever he’s gone, before he stops himself with a frustrated groan. Venus has dropped his mask now, and tricks and impossibilities in this world as well as his own seem effortlessly easy. Hongjoong will need to be cautious with him.</p><p>But for now, it’s all he can do not to lose his way on his way home, and he topples into bed so overcome with sudden exhaustion he doesn’t even have time to feel grateful when sleep pulls him under.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Cracks In The Concrete</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>There’s nothing in Hongjoong's mind but an empty blackness, when he tries to conjure memories of the time between closing his eyes and opening them again. It’s frustrating even when he pulls himself from his bed and realises with how much ease his body obeys him, now that a deep sleep had finally arrived, and sees that the reflection of his face in the mirror by his door is less pale, the circles under his eyes fainter than they’d been for some time. He’d trade it all for some sign of Mars, a glimpse into the other world, but it's lost to him, a separation between the worlds he'd created himself when he'd shoved Mars into a world he doesn't belong in. The radio silence he feels now is karma, all his doing.</p><p>He doesn’t let himself think about it- it’s a new day, and with a final glance at his reflection he’s charging out of his front door, barely noticing the journey to school, finding himself outside the campus gates what feels like mere seconds later. </p><p>He checks the clock on his phone. Seven. He has two hours before the early morning classes start. Plenty of time to wait and catch someone off guard. There are two targets he has in mind, but if he catches one, he'll likely catch the other, too.</p><p>Yeosang’s even earlier than he’d expected him to be, and Hongjoong feels suddenly grateful for his foresight as the other boy stumbles through the gates an hour and a half before classes begin, head down and staring at the ground, so that he’s fully through the gates without spotting Hongjoong. As quickly as he can, Hongjoong kicks himself off of the bench he’d been sat atop and steps into Yeosang’s path.</p><p>“I want to talk.”</p><p>Yeosang starts, almost tripping, but when Hongjoong reaches out to help steady him he scowls and steps out of his reach.</p><p>“I don’t want to talk to you.”</p><p>Hongjoong tries to assume a good-natured expression and lowers his voice. “I just have questions-”</p><p>“I told you I couldn’t help you, Hongjoong.”</p><p>“You <em> wouldn’t </em>help me,” Hongjoong corrects. “But you can. I know you can.”</p><p>With an exasperated exhale, Yeosang shoves past him. “It’s all the same. You’re on your own.”</p><p>Hongjoong leaps to follow, just barely keeping up with the pace Yeosang sets towards the school. “Do you know where Seonghwa is?”</p><p>“How would I know something like that?” Yeosang asks, throwing his hands in the air just barely, a tiny gesture, though it seems on him so huge.</p><p>“You know his name,” Hongjoong points out. “In fact, you’re the only one around here that seems to know anything about him.”</p><p>Yeosang plunges his hands into the pocket of his hoodie and shakes his head, irritated. “That’s not true.”</p><p>“No,” Hongjoong admits, “but Venus won’t help me either.”</p><p>Yeosang hesitantly turns towards him, eyes narrowed, something breaking through his stubborn avoidance of eye contact. “Who’s Venus?”</p><p>“Quit it, Yeosang, we’re past the point of denial. Way, <em>way</em> past it. I just need to know where Mars stays when he's in this world.” </p><p>Yeosang stops walking so quickly Hongjoong barges past him and has to grind to a halt and turn back around.</p><p>“I don’t know what I have to tell you for you to finally listen to me,” Yeosang says, and his voice is strained with the effort he’s expending not to raise it, “but I’ve already asked you to leave me out of this.”</p><p>Hongjoong scoffs. “I don’t think you’ll ever be ‘out’ of this Yeosang, you know so much more you’re not telling me.”</p><p>“I’m done with all of it.”</p><p>Before he’s aware of what he’s doing, Hongjoong’s stepping forward, closing the gap between them. The quick, enveloping anger he’d felt threaten before washes over him, refreshing in its shamelessness, and he feels Yeosang lean away.</p><p>“You’ve dodged too many questions, Yeosang. It wouldn't be so hard to give me a few answers, would it?”</p><p>Yeosang shakes his head, the usual far-away look in his eyes nonexistent now, replaced with a dark, irritated knowing, more exasperation than anger, though the gaze he turns on Hongjoong is far from kind.</p><p>“I don’t know Mars. Or Venus, or whatever the hell it is you're asking me. We know different worlds, Hongjoong.”</p><p>“That’s not good enough.” Yeosang steps back at Hongjoong’s angry growl, and Hongjoong follows, reaching for him, determined to keep the conversation going until he can extract some useful information. His fingertips graze Yeosang’s sweatshirt, but when he tries to grab it and tug the other boy back to him, his fingers slip through the fabric and close on air. Hongjoong freezes, and Yeosang stops trying to turn away.</p><p>“You didn’t tell me you could do that,” Hongjoong says, his voice little more than a whisper. He tests his hands, curling and uncurling his fingers from his palm, but the feeling is already gone, as if nothing had happened.</p><p>“I can’t.”</p><p>The shock dies, and in its place the anger returns, twice as harsh. “People need to stop lying to me-” he takes a step forward, but a loud, ugly cracking sound interrupts whatever he’d been meaning to say next. Both boys startle, jolting away as a deep, snaking crack tears through the asphalt between them. </p><p>Yeosang lets out a shaky breath, and Hongjoong realises he’s just as surprised at the narrow ravine now separating them. </p><p>“Hongjoong,” says a voice behind him.</p><p>It’s soft, and warm, but a shiver runs across Hongjoong’s skin at the warning within it, and when he turns toward the school behind him, he can’t quite meet the eye of the boy leaning in the shadows. </p><p>“Back at your questions already, I see.”</p><p>Venus steps away from the shade of the building and into the light, drawing up to his full height, his hands clasped politely behind his back. He isn’t smiling.</p><p>“If you’d helped me when I asked," Hongjoong manages, "I wouldn’t be here.”</p><p>Venus stares down at him, and then his eyes flicker past him, to Yeosang, who’s staring at the crack in the pavement and grinding his teeth so hard Hongjoong can see the muscles in his jaw protesting.</p><p>“Good morning,” Venus says softly.</p><p>Yeosang closes his eyes, screwing them shut as if to fight against the invisible pull of Venus’ voice. “I told you not to do this,” he whispers.</p><p>“I remember.”</p><p>It’s as if Hongjoong doesn’t exist, suddenly, like it’s just the two of them in front of the school, soaking in the early morning sunlight, as Yeosang keeps his eyes closed and Venus studies his face with a blank expression that isn’t quite convincing.</p><p>“Leave this to me,” Venus says. “I’ll tell him what he wants to know.”</p><p>Hongjoong blinks, slow to realise he’s suddenly been put back into the conversation. “You will?”</p><p>Venus glares so intensely Hongjoong takes an instinctive step back. Yeosang had opened his eyes, but they’re locked on Hongjoong, not Venus, even as he shakes his head.</p><p>“You know we shouldn’t s-”</p><p>“He won’t stop asking until he gets answers,” Venus interrupts. “I’d rather him get them from me than let him try to wring them out of you. Let me worry about the consequences.”</p><p>Hongjoong says nothing, afraid to interrupt the heavy silence that follows, lest he break the strange spell over them all and make Venus change his mind. Yeosang stares at the crack in the pavement as if it could provide every answer he needs, and his expression is so sad and broken Hongjoong has difficulty looking anywhere but at the concrete, too. </p><p>“Fine,” Yeosang says eventually. “It’s not as if you need my permission.” He steps forward, and as if in a trance Venus and Hongjoong part to let him past. “Do whatever you want.”</p><p>It takes a few moments for Venus to recover from his absence, after Yeosang has disappeared into the school building, and Hongjoong takes the short while to steel himself for what he knows must be coming. Venus is slow to anger, but Hongjoong has definitely crossed some kind of line, and the air around Venus is charged as if the anger is gathering there, growing, until at last Venus turns his gaze from the school entrance and looks down at Hongjoong. The lack of a smile is the only sign of his anger, until he sighs quickly and grabs Hongjoong by the wrists. Before he can even struggle against the grip, Hongjoong’s released, and he topples to his knees in the grass.</p><p>His heart lurches, but the grass that sways under him as he gets his bearings is dull and dry. It’s not Mars’ world they’ve stepped into.</p><p>“Get up.”</p><p>Hongjoong obeys, though his limbs shake and his thoughts are muddled. The sky above them is the same unchanged blue-gray it had been at the school, the sun high above them, but the neighbourhood they’re in is unfamiliar.</p><p>Wait- no. Hongjoong has been here before, a few times, on his way home. The houses are detached two story things in sand-coloured stone, the kind with neat wooden fences around gardens bursting with rose bushes and hydrangeas.</p><p>“Why are we here?”</p><p>Venus rolls his eyes and steps onto the road. “Why not use your head instead of your tongue for once?” he calls over his shoulder, his voice too loud for the near perfect silence of the rows of houses.</p><p>It’s then that Hongjoong notices that the usual lines of parked cars are missing, and the streets are empty. The sun is too high in the sky- when had that happened? He pulls his phone out, squinting at the screen-</p><p>“At least you’re quick,” Venus mutters. </p><p>It had been early morning when they’d been at the school. It’s past noon now.</p><p>Hongjoong huffs a laugh and follows Venus across the road, shoving his phone in his pocket.</p><p> “So this is what you do,” he says, thinking about the strange violet watch Yunho is always hiding with his sleeve.</p><p>“We all have our specialities. You’ll find my abilities aren’t limited to charming clocks,-” he studies Hongjoong momentarily from the side of his eye "-in case you get any ideas.”</p><p>“Why would I try anything if you’re finally helping me?”</p><p>Venus had been leading them to a house in the middle of a row, identical to the buildings side of it, unmarked with anything special or unusual. They reach the sidewalk, and Venus steps up onto it, but then turns, blocking Hongjoong’s path, so the difference in their stature is made painfully more obvious.</p><p>“Don’t think I’m giving you what you want because I think you’re in any way entitled to this kind of information.” He bends at the waist so they’re eye to eye again, and Hongjoong balls his hands into fists at his side at the intimidation tactic others had tried countless times on him, only now working so well because of the dark look that hasn’t quite left Venus’ gaze, the almost-scowl in place of his easy grin. “I do this, and you stay away from our <em> mutual friend</em>, Hongjoong,” he says, leaving no room for argument. “Don’t bother him with this. He wants no part in it.”</p><p>Some part of Hongjoong wants nothing more than to push, to extract whatever tiny detail of their story he can now it seems so like his own, now he feels like an uncanny echo of whatever had happened in Venus’ world, but he’s pushed too much already. He hadn’t been thinking straight since Mars' disappearance, maybe a while before that, and the whispering voice in the back of his mind had taken over for long enough to convince him that if he cornered Yeosang, it would be enough to figure out his next step. He hadn’t been sure whether he’d wanted Yeosang to confess everything or have this effect on Venus himself, but either way, he’d done what he wanted to do, and the end result is the same.</p><p>“Just show me how I can get to Mars and I’ll leave Yeosang alone. I'll leave both of you alone.”</p><p>Venus looks in his eyes for a long moment, and then straightens. “Something tells me you wont stick to that,” he says, but he shoves his hands in the pockets of his trousers and spins toward the house anyway. “Come on, then,” he sighs, and walks the short distance to the yellow front door. There’s a doorbell, but Venus ignores it, instead pressing the palm of his hand flat on the surface of the door and waiting, bowing his head impatiently when the door doesn’t immediately slide open.</p><p>“What are we doing?”</p><p>“Paying a visit.”</p><p>“But who-”</p><p>The door swings open soundlessly, revealing a boy standing in the doorway, half in the shade of the house, but lit just enough that Hongjoong recognises him.</p><p>“Jongho?"</p><p>The boy Hongjoong had been struggling to make small talk with for two slow years blinks at him, just as surprised to recognise the person on his doorstep as Hongjoong is to recognise the person on the other side of the door.</p><p>“You live here?”</p><p>Jongho's eyes shift from Hongjoong to Venus and back again. He doesn’t seem at all surprised to see Venus- an effect of the unusual summoning, Hongjoong supposes, that must have happened when Venus had touched the door. He gives Hongjoong a familiar awkward smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.</p><p>“You could say that.”</p><p>Another half answer. Even when Hongjoong feels so close to an explanation, his questions are twisted and sidestepped until they once again become his hated refrain: “What does that mean?”</p><p>Though his eyes never stray from Jongho, it’s Venus that answers. </p><p>“He’s the Gatekeeper.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Gatekeeper</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>“Gatekeeper?” Hongjoong’s voice is an echo, empty of all he should be feeling at the revelation, sounding as if it comes from someone else’s lips even to his own ears. He can feel Venus and Jongho’s eyes focused on him, but he’s already moving, shoving Jongho aside and barging through the doorway.</p><p>Inside, there’s a narrow corridor that ends in another door, and Hongjoong manages to take one step toward it before Jongho has him by the back of his collar and yanks him to a stop. He’s strong, even stronger than he looks, and Hongjoong gags as his collar cuts into his neck.</p><p>Venus steps into the corridor and quietly closes the door behind him, leaning back against it. </p><p>“Where is he?” he asks, not to Hongjoong.</p><p>Jongho, still holding Hongjoong back, shakes his head. “He’s not here. He’s out, somewhere.”</p><p>“Out,” Venus repeats, an edge to his voice Hongjoong is becoming familiar with.</p><p>“He said he needed air.”</p><p>Hongjoong battles out of Jongho’s grip now it’s clear this conversation is going to play out regardless of his presence. There’s a mirror by the door, placed just like the one in Hongjoong’s apartment, though this one is golden-framed and ornate where Hongjoong’s is a simple metal square. In it, he sees his own bedraggled reflection. <em>Only</em> his reflection. No one else.</p><p>Jongho patiently stares back at him, sensing this discovery, and Venus at the door rolls his eyes.</p><p>“You’re the ghosts,” Hongjoong breathes. “The ones Mars mentioned, the ones who taught him to do what he can do.”</p><p>Venus’ smile returns for the first time that day. “You’re getting a little ahead of yourself-”</p><p>“Step away from the door,” Hongjoong says, his voice loud and excited in his certainty. Venus’ mouth closes. He doesn’t move toward the mirror.</p><p>“I knew it was strange he called you a friend,” Hongjoong goes on, unable to stop now he’s begun. “You’re the only person he’s ever mentioned being part of his world.” Venus gives him a bitter smile, and Hongjoong turns to see Jongho watching with the same impassive expression he’d worn since opening the door and overcoming his surprise. “Who’re you, then, in Mars’ world? What do I call you?”</p><p>Jongho stares at him.</p><p>“Saturn,” Venus supplies.</p><p>Jongho finds his voice, a small frown forming at the corners of his lips. “Why are you telling him this? Why is he here?”</p><p>Seeing that Venus is reluctant to answer, Hongjoong ignores Jongho’s questions and asks instead: “If you’re the Gatekeeper, that means this is some kind of, what, portal to the other side? Mars’ side?”</p><p>Venus, still in the shade by the door and away from the mirror, shakes his head. “Gatekeeper is a loose term.”</p><p>“Only...Venus calls me Gatekeeper,” Jongho supplies, pausing for a moment as if trying to decide which name he should use. </p><p>“He keeps the house for Seonghwa.”</p><p>“So this is where Mars woke up.”</p><p>“This is where <em> Seonghwa </em> woke up,” Saturn corrects. “Mars doesn’t exist in this world.”</p><p>The only things he knew about Jongho until now: he lives close to school. The only place he’d ever saw Seonghwa was by the park, so close to this neighbourhood. No one seemed to know anything about Jongho. No one wanted to, except Hongjoong. Really, it shouldn't have taken him this long to realise he was a part of this.</p><p>Hongjoong grins, and Saturn tips his head, studying his expression.</p><p>“How are you feeling, Hongjoong?”</p><p>“Never better,” Hongjoong replies immediately.</p><p>Venus speaks up from behind him. “It’s started to get to him,” he tells Saturn, and when Hongjoong turns toward his voice he sees the same all-knowing, deep intensity in Venus’ eyes that Saturn had fixed him with. Whatever they see in him, it doesn’t seem good.</p><p>“Why’re you looking at me like that? I’m fine! Really!”</p><p>His voice is strained and unnatural, though, and Venus considers him silently, leaning further into the shade and crossing his arms across his chest, the dim light sparking momentarily on the face of his watch.</p><p>“You think I don’t know what it looks like to get in too deep?” he asks quietly. Saturn is very, very still, and the air seems to leave the room as Venus stares down at Hongjoong, something unknowable behind his gaze. “I’ve saw this kind of thing before, Hongjoong.” The worst thing about it is that the anger that had been in his voice has now been entirely replaced with pity. Hongjoong glances at his reflection in the mirror and realises the paleness has returned, his eyes circled with dark bruises and his gaze distracted, jumping across his own face. He looks like someone else. He looks like Yeosang.</p><p>“I’m not in too deep,” he mumbles, still staring at his own reflection. “I can control myself. I just needed to see if he was alright. After what I did.”</p><p>Venus sighs. His eyes shift to Saturn. “How has he been?” he asks softly.</p><p>“Distracted,” Jongo shrugs. “He hates being in the house even more than usual. He sneaks out when I’m not here.”</p><p>“Then stay here,” Venus says, an edge to his voice that raises the hairs at the back of Hongjoong’s neck.</p><p>“He isn’t a bird to be caged, Venus.”</p><p>It sounds like an old argument, and one Venus doesn’t try very hard to win- he inclines his head, agreeing, even though there’s a crease of concern between his brows. Hongjoong narrows his eyes, still uncertain around him. He’s usually so careless, so endlessly amused, but with Yeosang, and now with Mars, all the humour leaves him.</p><p>“He mumbles in his sleep,” Saturn says. “A name.”</p><p>“Mercury,” Venus supplies.</p><p>Saturn doesn’t seem surprised at the guess. “Yes,” he nods to Venus, and then to Hongjoong, he says, “I suppose that’s you, then.”</p><p>Hongjoong frowns. “You didn’t know?”</p><p>“It would be a lie to say I didn’t suspect,” Saturn admits. “But some of us don’t take such an interest in others affairs as Venus does. There are rules.”</p><p>Another thing they’d all neglected to explain.</p><p>“There are?”</p><p>“You won’t get anything out of him,” Venus cuts in. “If I wasn’t here myself, he’d never have answered the door, never mind speak with you.”</p><p>“We’re not all as careless as you, Venus.”</p><p>It’s not entirely playful, but Venus waves the comment away as if it’s a simple tease. His trickster smile has been growing, and it returns in full brightness now.</p><p>“It seems we have a situation to deal with.”</p><p>“What situation?” Hongjoong asks, knowing he must play some part of it but unsure whether he can trust Venus to be on his side.</p><p>“Seonghwa doesn’t have Mars’ memories. It’s one of the reasons Mars exists, to protect Seonghwa from things he doesn’t understand. The two must be kept separate.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“You can feel it already, can’t you? That empty pit in your stomach you can never quite manage to fill, that itch under your skin. Something in you has fractured, and when you're here, you wish to be there, but when you’re there you don’t belong, either. You’re bending, but there’s only so much someone from your world can take before they break.”</p><p>“And Seonghwa’s from this world,” Hongjoong realises. He’d gotten so used to Mars, he had started thinking of Seonghwa as the alien one, the odd one out, but that’s not true. It was Seonghwa that had been abandoned, Seonghwa that exists in Hongjoong’s world.</p><p>“Mars was supopsed to help with the strain,” Venus says quietly. “You’ve been travelling between worlds for some time now, but Seonghwa was just a child. There’s only so much his mind could take before it split. Too many years have passed with him jumping from one world to the other.”</p><p>“But if Seonghwa remembers my name-”</p><p>“Then we have a problem,” Venus finishes.</p><p>“Well, what can I do?”</p><p>Saturn answers before Venus can, his voice transitioning subtly from emotionless to a defensive cold. “You’ve done far too much already.”</p><p>“It’s not entirely his fault.” Hongjoong startles, turning to stare at Venus with wide eyes. He’s defending him? “Mars isn’t guiltless in this. Hongjoong didn’t always find his way by himself.”</p><p>“Which is precisely why we should let Mars solve this. Hongjoong remains here. When Seonghwa regains his balance, he’ll go back and Mars can make it seem as if this never happened. Seonghwa won't remember anything.”</p><p>“Mars can do that?”</p><p>“It’s his job to do that.” Saturn’s voice is only getting more hostile, though Hongjoong sees the defensive set of his jaw and thinks perhaps the negative feelings Jongho suddenly seems to be feeling towards him begin and end with protectiveness over Mars. They must have watched him grow up. “Mars protects Seonghwa. From himself, if he has to.”</p><p>“That’s not <em> protection </em>,” Hongjoong says, “that’s deception-”</p><p>“Don’t speak as if you understand,” Jongho hisses.</p><p>Venus clears his throat, effectively drawing their attention. “Saturn. Seonghwa hasn’t been himself since the two of them started meeting. I think Mars <em> wants </em> Seonghwa to remember. We should consider using Hongjoong. If the problem began with him, perhaps it can end with him.”</p><p>Hongjoong bristles. “End how?”</p><p>Now it’s Venus’ turn to get angry- the familiar quirk of his smile is sharpened by the sudden dark glint behind his eyes. “Careful of your tone,” he warns, voice low. “I’d hate to think you were implying that the two of us don’t have Mars’ best interest at heart.”</p><p>“That’s not what I meant-”</p><p>“Good.” Venus considers him for a moment longer, making sure Hongjoong has nothing else to say, then turns to Saturn as if he isn’t there. “We both knew this couldn’t last forever. He can’t stay locked up here.”</p><p>“He’s not here against his will-”</p><p>There’s a series of rattling noises somewhere behind them. Almost too quickly for Hongjoong’s eyes to track the motion, Venus grabs him, and just as his fingers close around Hongjoong’s shoulders the world around them twists and bends. Hongjoong collides painfully with concrete and yelps. The distant rush of traffic is just audible. Hongjoong’s stomach lurches, too late, and he takes a huge gulp of air as he fights against the nausea.</p><p>It’s dark. They’re in a shadowed alcove behind the school, just out of sight. </p><p>Venus exhales slowly, his lips pulled into a pout. Hongjoong pushes himself shakily to his feet.</p><p>“What the hell was that?” Hongjoong asks, but he’s too scattered to sound angry, even to <em>feel</em> angry, and his voice comes out breathy and high.</p><p>“Seonghwa,” Venus says. “If he saw you with us it would...cause complications.”</p><p>“How?”</p><p>Venus turns to him and gives a small smile. “Got any clever excuse as to how you know both of us? Why you’re in the safe house?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>Venus’ grin grows fractionally. He leans against the brick of the school building and crosses his arms, looking out across the campus grounds. </p><p>“Here’s what we do,” he says eventually. “You keep doing whatever it is you’re doing with Mars. Don’t lie to him- if he asks you anything related to Seonghwa, you need to tell him. Ultimately, if Mars doesn’t trust you, Seonghwa won’t even remember your name.”</p><p>Hongjoong nods along. The prospect of lying to Mars hadn’t exactly been a welcome one, anyway, and this sounds like permission, from Venus, to keep seeing him, maybe even to keep learning whatever tricks Mars wants to show him. But there must be something more. Venus is clearly not blind to Hongjoong’s symptoms, the distracted, never-satisfied hunger that’s started biting at him.</p><p>“What else?”</p><p>Venus fiddles with the strap of his watch absently. “If Mars really wants Seonghwa to remember you, then...then we let him remember you.”</p><p>Hongjoong tries and fails to smother a rush of relief. “You want me to meet him?”</p><p>“It’s not what I <em> want</em>, Hongjoong,” Venus warns. “Don’t get that wrong. I just think that if Mars pushes his memories of you onto Seonghwa it will cause a strain. It won’t be good for either of them. So if we introduce you, slowly, and Seonghwa can accustomise himself first, it might lighten the load. Working against Mars won't do anyone any good.”</p><p>“I understand.”</p><p>“Do you? Seonghwa has to remember you himself, Hongjoong. If you talk as if you know him he’ll only be confused, and he’ll shut you out. He can’t know that you’ve met before. You can’t rush him.”</p><p>A dark suspicious coils uneasily in Hongjoong’s gut.</p><p>“What’s the real game here, Venus?”</p><p>“This is the real game.”</p><p>“Really? Then what happens to me? What happens if I keep going between worlds like you ask?”</p><p>Venus' smile quirks wickedly. “My suggestion isn’t the reason you’ll be going back. You were always planning to chase that feeling all the way back to Mars, with or without my approval. Are you trying to deny that?”</p><p>Hongjoong at least has the sense not to lie to him. “But what’s happening to me now, it’ll get worse.”</p><p>Venus shrugs. "Probably."</p><p>"Probably," Hongjoong repeats. Venus' eyes narrow.</p><p>“You expect me to care after what you did this morning?”</p><p>“I just wanted answers-”</p><p>“Stop acting as if you’re entitled to them,” Venus says softly. “Your questions come to me. The next time you speak a word to Yeosang it will be to apologise.”</p><p>Hongjoong scoffs. Of course he’d wanted to apologise, but doing it because he wanted to and being ordered by someone who cares so little about putting Hongjoong through the same thing Yeosang had gone through is another thing entirely. “For speaking to him?”</p><p>“For asking too much of him,” Venus corrects. “People bend until they break, Hongjoong, and I won’t let him break again.”</p><p>A more sincere flare of anger rushes through Hongjoong. “You can’t blame me for whatever happened between you and Yeosang. He isn’t made of china.”</p><p>Venus steps closer, his voice low and close to a growl, his words coming fast. “<em> Apologise</em>, Hongjoong, or next time I put my hands on you I’ll drop you somewhere even Mars can’t find you.”</p><p>A blink of an eye, and he’s gone. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Fragments</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>I swear, Hongjoong, I saw it happen with my own eyes- </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Cracks in the concrete- </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Not once! Again and again- </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Everyone just stopped- </em>
</p><p>
  <em> No one remembers. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Haven’t you noticed? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I thought I was dreaming. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> None of you can remember. </em>
</p><p>Hongjoong wakes with a yell. The echo of his voice in his narrow bedroom dies out just as he’s ripped from his dream. He barely notices it.</p><p>It’d been Yeosang’s voice. </p><p>It hadn’t been Mars’ world, it hadn’t been his imagination. It’d been the lost memories Yeosang had told him about, that Hongjoong hadn’t entirely believed existed until now. The things Yeosang had told him about whatever world he’d vanished into, the things he’d told everyone. The reasons for the rumours of his strangeness and paranoia, though the specifics had been forgotten. </p><p>It’s not the whole story. Hell, it’s not even complete sentences, just a few words, in Yeosang’s desperate voice. Something tells Hongjoong it hadn’t been one moment he’d been remembering, but many- that Yeosang had tried to explain countless times, and Hongjoong had forgotten every one of them, just like everyone else Yeosang had tried to tell. Had been <em> made </em> to forget.</p><p>Hongjoong’s just as early to school as he had been the previous day, though his intentions are less nefarious. Yeosang doesn’t show. He must be avoiding Hongjoong, reasonably so, Hongjoong supposes, which makes it a little difficult to apologise, until Venus appears randomly by his side just as Hongjoong had been walking from his last class.</p><p>“Back of the building. Hurry or you’ll miss him.”</p><p>That’s all he gets before Venus too disappears- no one in the corridor seems to notice. Hongjoong rounds the back of the building as fast as he can, fighting against the crowd that surges in the other direction.</p><p>Yeosang doesn’t look very surprised to see him, but he doesn’t seem thrilled about it, either.</p><p>“What do you want <em> now</em>?”</p><p>The usual dark hood is pulled over Yeosang’s hair, casting shadow over his features as he crouches in a crevice of stone where one campus building meets the other, away from the chilling wind now rushing across the grass. There’s a cigarette in his hand, smoking faintly, but he throws it to the ground as he stands, crushing it underfoot as he fixes Hongjoong with an impatient glare.</p><p>“I’m sorry I acted like I did,” Hongjoong starts, wary of stretching the apology too long for Yeosang’s patience. “Yesterday. I shouldn’t have kept bothering you with this when you asked me not to.”</p><p>“And yet here you are,” Yeosang mutters. The barest flicker of a bitter grin pulls at his lips, and Hongjoong is reminded for a second of Venus, before the broken smile is replaced again with Yeosang’s sullen frown, as if it had never been there at all.</p><p>“To apologise,” Hongjoong says quietly. “I’m here to apologise. <em>Really</em>, Yeosang, I’m sorry I did that to you.”</p><p>It’s clear from his reaction that Yeosang doesn’t know whether to believe his sincerity or not. Hongjoong can sympathise with that, never knowing what’s real and what’s a game, on this side of the mirror or the other. But the quiet stretches over them, and Yeosang ponders his words as his distracted eyes hones in on Hongjoong’s face, taking in every inch of it.</p><p>“Fine,” he mumbles eventually. “Apology accepted.”</p><p>“And I want you to know, I-” Hongjoong stops, uncertain whether he should go on, whether even this gesture he’d thought would be a kindness is actually just him pulling Yeosang into the chaos again. But it gets the best of him, the memory of Yeosang’s urgent voice in his head, the flashes of desperate expressions he’d barely recognised in his dream.</p><p>“I want you to know I’ve started to remember you. Then. When you told me everything I’ve forgotten.”</p><p>The confession snatches Yeosang’s hesitation away- Hongjoong hisses with pain as the other boy grips his wrist firmly enough to stop his circulation.</p><p>“You mean you remember-”</p><p>“Only fragments,” Hongjoong says quickly. “I only remember a few phrases. But it was definitely your voice. I know the memories are there somewhere.”</p><p>A new fire burns behind Yeosang’s dark eyes, insistent and wild, as his grip on Hongjoong’s arm only tightens. </p><p>“Now you understand, then?” he urges. “You know why I’ve been trying so hard to keep out of this, to warn you? <em>You need to be careful,</em> Hongjoong. If he knows you’ve started to remember what I told you-”</p><p>“We made a deal, Yeosang. I’m fine. I’ll be fine.”</p><p>The blood rushes back through Hongjoong’s arm as the grip loosens. Yeosang’s jaw goes slack, before he manages to croak, “What?”</p><p>“He told me he wouldn’t do that this time.”  </p><p>Yeosang stills, his face a careful mask of blankness, his breathing shallow. “Who told you?” he asks, his voice so flat and level and empty it reminds Hongjoong of Wooyoung’s voice when he says his own name, no ownership over the words that float from his mouth, no feeling. There’s a story there that Hongjoong doesn’t know, the time between Yeosang <em>before</em> and Yeosang <em>after</em>, the time he’d been taken too, before Hongjoong had even known any of this was possible. "Who did you make a deal with?"</p><p>“Venus.”</p><p>“Who the hell is <em> Venus </em>?”</p><p>The same question he’d asked yesterday, when Hongjoong had thought he was being coy. But of course: the world Yeosang had been taken to wasn’t Mars’ world. Everything would be different, including the names. “It’s Yunho’s name in Mars’ world.”</p><p>“Yu-Yunho?” The name seems to snap something inside him, and the careful blankness breaks as he grabs Hongjoong’s shoulders, so desperately Hongjoong feels the other boy’s nails cut half crescents into the surface of his skin. </p><p>“Yeosang what-”</p><p>“It isn’t him you have to watch out for, Hongjoong. Yunho, Venus, whatever you call him, he isn’t interested in your memories. He won’t wipe <em> anything</em>.”</p><p>Hongjoong freezes, Yeosang’s fear threatening to wrap itself around him and squeeze the air from his lungs. “But you said-”</p><p>“Not <em> him</em>, Hongjoong, the other.”</p><p>“You’re not making any sense, Yeosang, just tell me what it is I’m getting wrong.”</p><p>“<em>No</em>. I won’t risk it again. He let me keep my own memories, but he took everyone else’s. I want to keep what’s mine, Hongjoong. I can’t help you.”</p><p>He’d come to apologise. He’d meant to, sincerely, with as much feeling as he could muster up and weave into his words. And he’s just bringing it all back onto Yeosang’s shoulders again.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” he says, pathetically, stepping out of Yeosang’s reach. Yeosang’s eyes remain staring at empty air where Hongjoong had been standing, distant and unseeing. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Hongjoong offers again, the only thing he has left to give, and he turns and walks away.</p><p>He rushes back around the side of the building. When he reaches the benches, he’s no longer surprised to see Venus lurking nearby, at a bench by himself as the crowds dispersing around him ignore his presence entirely. No one so much as glances at him. A ghost amongst the living, hidden from view. He’s watching Hongjoong approach, his eyes already on Hongjoong when he’s spotted.</p><p>“We made a deal,” Hongjoong reminds him. The past few weeks have taught him out of keeping up pretences- he has no time for subtlety anymore. Venus’ brows rise at the sudden bluntness, but he just nods. “You told me you wouldn’t take my memories if I could tell you my name.”</p><p>“And I upheld my end, did I not?”</p><p>“It was a trick, wasn’t it?” There had been a part of him even as he’d agreed that had known there must have been something sly and clever behind the bargain that he hadn’t understood, but he couldn’t tell what it was. He'd agreed anyway. Now he knows.</p><p>“What trick is there in a fair deal?”</p><p>“It wasn’t <em> fair</em>,” Hongjoong bites. “You made me believe you could take something from me that you knew I'd never want to part with.”</p><p>“You agreed,” Venus reminds him, his tone almost disinterested.</p><p>“Could you ever do that?" Hongjoong scoffs. "You tried to make me believe you could erase my memories. But that was a trick, wasn’t it?”</p><p>To his credit, Venus doesn’t keep up pretences, either. He sees the righteous anger in Hongjoong’s gaze and shrugs.</p><p>“Memories are-” he pauses, wiggling his fingers in the air “-pesky business. Quite outside my expertise.”</p><p>“So you can’t make me forget?”</p><p>Venus sniffs, watching the dissipating crowds. “I wouldn’t say it’s <em> impossible. </em> But I won’t." His eyes trail the people leaving campus, groups of laughing students. "It's just not what I do.”</p><p>He had assumed Yeosang was talking about Venus. He’d been the only person other than Mars that Hongjoong had been suspicious of. No one else he knew had the same telltale, other-worldly energy he’d been cautious of. But Yeosang hadn’t meant Venus.</p><p>“Who does it?” He asks, stepping closer, and Venus' eyes snap back to him.</p><p>“Someone already angry enough with me that it’s best not to irritate them further.”</p><p>“You won’t tell me either,” Hongjoong translates glumly.</p><p>Venus grants him a bright smile, before Hongjoong’s left facing an empty bench.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Shattered Roses</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>Mars faces him from the other side of a stall. There’s a game between them, an odd variation of whack-a-mole where bright crimson roses pop out of clay pots. Wooyoung has a wooden mallet in one hand, swinging at the plants and sending clouds of red dust into the air every time he hits one, as they crumble into dust and are replaced with new blooms. San stands behind him, following the sudden movements with his eyes. Hongjoong and Mars are outside the stall, each resting against the counter running along it’s edge at waist height. Mars is watching the game; Hongjoong is watching Mars.</p><p>It’s perhaps the most frustrating thing that could have happened when he returned: Mars is acting as if nothing had happened. As if Hongjoong hadn’t crossed some terrible, invisible boundary in sending him to the other side, removing the Maker from the world he’d created. </p><p>Wooyoung finishes with the game and spins, hammer raised, aiming a swing at San’s head and catching only air as the other boy ducks away.</p><p>Wooyoung giggles. Mars clicks his fingers, and both of his minions shuffle out of the stall to stand beside him. Hongjoong rounds the little stall too.</p><p>“What’s next?” Mars is asking, adjusting his jacket collar so it sits flat.</p><p>“How about a private conversation?”</p><p>None of them look at him. Mars, still staring at Wooyoung’s face and waiting for an answer, smiles tightly, and Wooyoung winces.</p><p>“Fun house?” he suggests, and Hongjoong huffs and shoves him aside, taking his place so Mars’ eyes are on him, instead.</p><p>“Let’s not make scenes,” Mars says quietly.</p><p>“I’d need an audience to make a scene,” Hongjoong bites. “Is there really anyone here but you and I?”</p><p>Wooyoung behind him huffs, and Mars’ eyes flicker to him for a moment before settling on Hongjoong again.</p><p>“If that’s really what you believe, we can have our conversation <em> here</em>, can we not? It’s plenty private already.”</p><p>“You’re not angry with me? I’d expected something more when you let me back here, Mars.”</p><p>Mars’ patient expression doesn’t change. “What <em> more</em>?”</p><p>Hongjoong’s shrug is an angry, aggressive gesture, exaggerated and jerking, not enough to relieve the frustration knocking about in his skull. “Anything.”</p><p>A thoughtful nod, a quirk of Mars’ lips. “Some perspective, perhaps?”</p><p>“On what?”</p><p>Mars adjusts the kerchief in the pocket of his jacket with a gentle gesture. When he looks back at Hongjoong, his face is still carefully blank, but his eyes aren’t what they were a moment ago. The icy, pale blue has sharpened, glowing faintly like sunlight through stained glass, though with every second Mars spends not answering they grow brighter. Now he smiles, the tilt of his lips removing all calm emptiness in his expression, and the usual slyness of Mars’ grin is colder, sharper, than it had been before.</p><p>“My anger,” he answers quietly. The words steal his smile, and the blue of his irises is so close to white now, glaring, that Hongjoong’s eyes strain against the brightness. The red slash from his brow to the bone of his cheek has deepened and bled, more saturated, harsher, as if it were an open wound. His pale skin is ghoulish, the cold blond of his hair an even whiter shade, fresh snow, and the lips pulled into a snarl are blood red.</p><p>Hongjoong gasps and topples, pain spiking through him as his tailbone hits the earth. The grass is wet beneath him, and the hands he’d thrown out to break his fall stain red. Even the sky above them has changed, perfect, blank white in place of pale blue. </p><p>Wooyoung whimpers, and just as quickly as they’d occurred, the effects of Mars’ anger vanish, the red seeping from the ground and sky, the harsh glare of Mars’ eyes settling back into their icy clear.</p><p>Mars takes a step forward, and without thinking Hongjoong scrambles backwards, feet fighting for purchase in the grass, gaping about him as if there were someone to help him. But San is shaking, and Wooyoung has both hands clamped over his ears, his eyes squeezed shut.</p><p>Mars lunges and closes his grip around Hongjoong’s wrist. He wrenches, and Hongjoong yells as his arm almost pulls free from its socket, but as soon as he’s upright, Mars lets him go.</p><p>Hongjoong feels small, and desperate, and close to begging. But the dark corners of his mind whisper for more.</p><p>He isn’t sure what part of him speaks the word, only that as Mars stares patiently at him, he finds his voice trembling out the words: “I know my name.”</p><p>It sounds like a plea, a desperate attempt to impress, but Mars hardly acknowledges it.</p><p>“Of course you do-”</p><p>“My other name. I know yours too,” Hongjoong adds, urgent.</p><p>An elegant shrug lifts Mars’ shoulders. “I never tried to hide it from you.”</p><p>“I’m not talking about your Here-Name.”</p><p>Mars expression sours. “Trying to surprise me? You forget,” he says, already turning away, and Hongjoong skips forward to keep pace as they walk. “Seonghwa might not have any memory of this world, but I am very much aware of his.”</p><p>Hongjoong stops walking. Sensing the lack of movement at his side, Mars halts, and glances over his shoulder, barely sparing Hongjoong a glance.</p><p>“You know I saw him,” Hongjoong says, picking apart Mars’ every word, certain he must be wrong in his interpretation of them. But Mars nods. “That means...he saw me? If you knew I was aware of him, that means you have some memory of Seonghwa’s that’s attached to me, doesn’t it?”</p><p>When Mars turns to face him, there’s a mixture of fondness and irritation in his expression. “You’ve grown tricksy,” he says quietly. “Perhaps you’ve spent too much time Here when you should be There.”</p><p>Hongjoong handn't realised he knew the rebutal to this until he's saying, “If I didn’t belong here I wouldn’t have another name.”</p><p>“What makes you so certain?”</p><p>It’s neither a confirmation or a denial. A prompt, like the lesson he’d given in his tent, when Hongjoong had finally tapped into the recesses of his mind he’d had no control over before.</p><p>When he’d earned his name, had a Maker Day of his own.</p><p>Hongjoong turns the question over in his mind. He wants desperately to belong here, but even as he acknowledges this, that there might be something stubborn and selfish in his desire to remain, he knows there is something else swaying him.</p><p>“Wooyoung.” There it is. “Wooyoung and San don’t have other names.”</p><p>Of course, he’s not certain. They’d only appeared on his side for such a short time. But he hasn’t forgotten the way they’d introduced themselves, how their names had been nothing more than sound and air on their lips. Mars and Mercury and Venus. They all feel different. They all feel alive.</p><p>Mars turns and strides toward his tent. This time, the lesson is not full of praise and patience, cut short without comment, though Hongjoong knows he’s given the right answer. Mars is still angry with him.</p><p>They step into the tent through the fabric- it’s unecessary now to even check for a place to slip through, because the entire structure bends to Mars’ will, nothing but air as they all step through and into the red-lit interior.</p><p>“What do I have to do?” Hongjoong says, as Mars rounds the desk and hovers by the chair. “I know things are going wrong. And I’ve been told that I might have something to do with it. Is there something I can do?”</p><p>The little wooden boy Mars had used as a chess piece has reappeared in his hand, and he studies it as he sits, turning it over under his fingers. “To what end?”</p><p>Uncertain of what would happen if he steps closer, Hongjoong hovers by the fabric of the tent. For the first time, he notices San and Wooyoung hadn’t followed them inside- the realisation sinks in his stomach like a lead weight.</p><p>But he presses on. Everyone else who could give him answers has already rejected him. Mars is the only person he might be able to get information from, now. </p><p>He plays his ace, the thing that’d been revealed to him in the ‘safe house’ that Mars might not be aware of. “Seonghwa’s starting to remember things he shouldn’t, isn’t he?”</p><p>“It’s hardly the first time,” Mars sighs. He crosses his ankles atop the desk and fixes Hongjoong with a tight, wry smile. “Why do you think I exist at all?”</p><p>“Why can’t you shield him from it like you always do? Why is this time different?”</p><p>Mars sets the chess piece down on the desk and looks up at Hongjoong, his gaze light but fixing Hongjoong in place just as it always does. </p><p>“Why do you think?” he asks quietly.</p><p>“There’s…” the lie comes with difficulty, when Mars’ eyes lock him in place. He knows he’s giving the wrong answer, but it’s easier. It’s easier to be told he’s wrong than always fear this is the right answer. “There’s only so much time things can remain hidden before they’re brought to light. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”</p><p>Mars clicks his tongue. “Now your real thoughts.”</p><p>The words stumble out in a rush. “It’s because of me.”</p><p>Grinning, Mars pushes himself to his feet and steps around the desk, leaning back against it as he speaks. “Of course it’s because of you, <em>Mercury</em>.”</p><p>It’s the first time he’s ever addressed Hongjoong by any name. It’s the first time he’s spoken his Here-Name. Even as it's meant to be biting, and bitter, the sound of it from Mars' lips still makes Hongjoong shiver.</p><p>“You’re meddling,” Mars tells him. “You keep coming back to a place that wasn’t made for you. It’s in your nature to change things. Always questioning, always challenging. There’s only so much I can do to keep this hidden from Seonghwa when you’re taking up so much of my attention.”</p><p>A thrill runs through Hongjoong, and this time he doesn’t try to hide his eagerness as he asks: “And when I sent you back, you woke up as Seonghwa, didn’t you?”</p><p>Mars nods. “The change was too sudden. He sensed something was wrong. And he remembered a memory of mine that he shouldn’t have.”</p><p>“My name,” Mercury says.</p><p>Mars’ pale eyes flicker over his face. “Your name,” he agrees softly.</p><p>“What happens if Seonghwa remembers it all?” Mars raises a brow dangerously, and Hongjoong hastily adds, “Slowly. With no more surprises.”</p><p>Considering it silently for a moment, Mars leans away from the desk and paces a few strides around the tent. “He was young when we fractured,” he stats. “Too young to exist in both worlds at once. Perhaps now he’s older, now I’ve given him time to adjust, he’ll be able to withstand the strain.”</p><p>Though he doesn’t want to think about it, Hongjoong hears the unspoken end of Mars’ sentence and finds himself asking. “Or?”</p><p>“Or he breaks,” Mars answers, a sad smile almost too faint to see touching his lips for a fraction of a second.“People from your world are not built to control others." He picks the wooden boy up from the desk and cradles it in his palm. "Perhaps I’ll break with him.”</p><p>“If Seonghwa remembers...what happens to you?”</p><p>Mars sighs as if the situation were little more than bothersome, with disinterest that sounds real to Hongjoong's ears, though he knows it must be fake. “We are not two separate people, Seonghwa and I. Were he able to handle the memories, the abilities, there would be no need for a fracture. This is all guess work, of course. A situation like this one has never presented itself seriously enough for this level of consideration. And, well,” Mars adds, laughing through the words, “that would be assuming I agreed to the merge.”</p><p>A warning bell sounds somewhere in Hongjoong's mind. Why hadn't he considered this?</p><p>“Why wouldn’t you?”</p><p>“Is it strange to enjoy the freedom of being your own person?” Mars asks, tilting his head. “Is it strange to wish to remain in the world you’ve created in your own image?”</p><p>Hongjoong frowns. “But you said-”</p><p>“Whatever I said about Seonghwa,” Mars cuts in, “doesn’t change the fact that returning to a world I’ve never belonged is something I’ll never do willingly.”</p><p>“You don’t want Seonghwa to remember?”</p><p>“Of course I don’t,” Mars laughs. “Either he isn’t able to stand the knowledge Venus and Saturn have given us, or he can, and I am once again degraded to a dark spot in his memory, a mere whisper of consciousness for him to ignore or heed at will. How would it serve me?”</p><p>All guesswork, for a situation not even Mars completely understands. Venus might have sounded certain about using Hongjoong to help Seonghwa, but he hadn’t mentioned how he might affect Mars if he went along with the plan. When Seonghwa starts to remember, what will happen to Mars? Who does Hongjoong really want to help?</p><p>Hongjoong looks around the tent filled with red sunlight, the two sided desk, the curtains of fabric that hide the rest of the room from view.  “Can’t both of you exist here, instead?”</p><p>A fiery spark lights in Mars’ icy eyes. “<em>I </em> made this place. It wasn’t made for Seonghwa.”</p><p>“Don't you want to help him?”</p><p>“Of course I do. I’m a part of him, after all. I don’t like how he hides away. I just don’t want <em> a part of him </em> to be all I am.”</p><p>Is this what could happen to Hongjoong? If he remains here, keeps crossing boundaries between worlds, will the voice whispering at the back of his mind become his Mars? Right now it’s only an implication of feeling, sudden urges, but it already has a name, and Mars’ sentiment echoes around Hongjoong’s skull as if the words were his own. Hongjoong doesn’t want to lose this side of himself either. </p><p>He doesn’t know which world he belongs to, anymore.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Voices</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>“You’re coming with me.”</p><p>Hongjoong looks up to see Venus standing in his path, beside the rows of lockers Hongjoong had been in the process of rifling through.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>Venus huffs, though even as he does, his lips are upturned into the ghost of a smile. “We have somewhere to be,” he says. “And I was going to offer you the option of walking, but if that’s too difficult-” he reaches out for Hongjoong’s shoulder and Hongjoong jumps back, crashing into the lockers.</p><p>“I’ll walk. Alright? I’ll walk.”</p><p>Venus grins. He gestures for Hongjoong to walk past him, and keeps step as they traipse through corridors and out into the sun.</p><p>“Are you going to tell me-”</p><p>“Joong!”</p><p>It’s a learned behaviour, to instinctively turn towards Mingi’s voice, but as he spins and sees Mingi jogging towards him, Hongjoong freezes.</p><p>“Where the hell have you been?”</p><p>Yunho stops too, and crosses his arms. Hongjoong is aware of his presence behind him, and doesn’t miss how Mingi’s eyes shift between them.</p><p>“I’ve been trying to find you,” he says, smiling the same lazy smile Mingi always smiles, though now it looks tired and forced.</p><p>
  <em> I’ve been avoiding you.  </em>
</p><p>“Did you need something?”</p><p>Mingi glances at Yunho and gives an awkward smile. As they shift back to Hongjoong, his eyes are narrow, as if he’s trying not to scowl. “Can we talk for a second?”</p><p>
  <em> There’s so much I can’t tell you. </em>
</p><p>“Sure.”</p><p>Venus waves him away permissively when Hongjoong looks at him over his shoulder, so he follows Mingi back to the side of the school, away from the crowds. The day is bright, but heatless, and half in the shade of the building, shivers run up Hongjoong’s skin.</p><p>“What’s up?” he asks, and instantly regrets it, because now they’re alone Mingi’s real anger is more obvious.</p><p>He scoffs at the question. “Are you being serious? I’ve hardly seen you all week. The last time we talked- hell, Hongjoong, when <em> was </em> the last time we spoke?”</p><p>“I’m sorry. There’s just been a lot going on right now-”</p><p>“Since when have you been friends with Yunho?” Mingi interrupts. “You hate Yunho. You were always telling <em> me </em> to stay away from him. And somehow, I can’t find you anywhere, but he’s always at your side, now?”</p><p>Hongjoong curses every conversation he’d had with Mingi about Yunho, before he’d met Venus, before he knew anything. It’d been stupid, and childish, and he hadn’t known why he felt so strongly connected to Yeosang, why it had turned into a deep, sudden distrust of Yunho.</p><p>“It’s not what it looks like,” Hongjoong starts.</p><p>“What do you think it looks like, Joong?” Mingi asks incredulously. “Because, honestly, if you could tell me what the hell I’m supposed to be thinking right now that’d be great.”</p><p>“I’ve not been...ditching you, for Yunho. It’s not like that, I just- there’s things I need to deal with right now that are going to sound crazy if I explain them.”</p><p>“Does this have something to do with those stupid dreams you’ve been having? I thought you said you were feeling better!”</p><p>“I am,” Hongjoong urges, even though it’s not that simple, can’t be that simple, and he isn’t so certain he is better than he’d been. “I’m fine, I just need some time to-”</p><p>Mingi huffs, shaking his head. “Time for<em> what, </em> Joong? Can you even tell me where you’re going?”</p><p>Hongjoong thinks of Venus’ anger and Saturn’s secretiveness and Seonghwa, a little red chess piece in a field of black, a boy on a bench with the sun on his skin, who remembers Hongjoong’s name when he shouldn’t.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>He’s not surprised when Mingi storms away. There’s never been a secret between them before, and now there’s worlds and worlds. He would probably turn away too, if he’d been on the other side of the conversation. </p><p>But he should feel more guilt than this. Something uglier than distant relief as he steps back up to Venus and sees a sympathetic, sad smile in place of his usual slyness.</p><p>“You haven’t spoken to him, have you?”</p><p>Hongjoong exhales slowly, emptying his lungs, a long breath of impatient sound. “How do you tell them about something like this?”</p><p>Venus sighs and glances at his watch. When he looks back down at Hongjoong, the sadness hasn’t left his expression. “You don’t,” he admits. “They’re not supposed to know.”</p><p>“Is that one of the rules no one’s telling me about?” Venus laughs, and gives a slight nod. “But you told someone.”</p><p>Venus doesn’t wait for him to agree this time: hands are on his shoulders before Hongjoong has time to react, and they cling to him, fingertips digging through his shirt as Venus keeps him upright. The school building behind them has vanished, the gates are gone, and in their place is an empty street and a lacquered door, already open to them.</p><p>“Yes,” Venus says quietly, as his hands drop from Hongjoong’s shoulders. “I told someone.”</p><p>Hongjoong can’t be surprised at where they’d ended up. There’s no other place he imagines Venus would take him, but it’s still alarming, to be at school one moment and here the next. He grabs Venus’ arm as the taller boy goes to walk past him through the door. “Why am I here, Venus?”</p><p>“It’s <em> Yunho</em>, in this world.”</p><p>As Venus grins down at him, on the bottom step leading up to the door and towering over Hongjoong even more than usual, he crosses his arms impatiently. “I’ll call you Yunho at school,” he says, “when you’re not shoving me through portals or however the hell we got here.”</p><p>“Fine with me,” Venus grins. He doesn’t seem to sober as he turns on the small step, facing Hongjoong and blocking the entrance, still smiling as he explains: “Saturn’s worried. Seonghwa hasn’t been sleeping. He's been Mars too often lately, without switching back. Whenever his guard is down, Mars takes over, and he wakes up. They need to share control more- when they’re separated for so long, it gets to him.”</p><p>“Gets to him how?”</p><p>Instead of asking, Venus steps through the open door and starts down the hall, not turning to check whether Hongjoong’s following him.</p><p>The corridors are dim, only a few feet of narrow space, though to Hongjoong time slows as they walk, Venus before him, blocking sight of whatever lies at the end of a hall, until the eternity ends and Venus is stepping aside, and Hongjoong sees they’re in a living room. It’s small too, a little box with enough room for two sofas and a bookshelf but nothing else, and the wall they’re facing is set with a wide, tall window looking out onto a garden. Venus pushes Hongjoong forward, in front of him, reaching past to open the glass door set by the window, shoving Hongjoong through.</p><p>The grass is dewy under his feet, and he can still smell the rain, though he doesn’t remember it falling today. There are short rows of trees either side of him, covering the garden fence, making the small space seem inescapable and vast, a tiny forest Hongjoong has stumbled into and doesn’t know how to navigate. Venus takes his arm and directs him down a winding path, ducking under grassy arches and rounding willows, leaves rustling over their clothes, until they reach what must be the middle of the garden, and the trees form a ring around a dry patch of grass. There’s a lone bench, with someone sitting on it. Hongjoong’s heart leaps into his throat, but it’s Saturn with his back to them, not Seonghwa. Seonghwa’s on his back in the grass a few feet away, his eyes open but distant, staring at the sky.</p><p>Venus puts a hand on Saturn’s shoulders. The other boy seems to sigh with relief at the contact.</p><p>“I said I wanted to test you, didn’t I?” Venus says, and Hongjoong takes a moment to realise he’s the one being spoken too, and only just manages to tears his eyes from Seonghwa. “I wanted to know whether you're worthy of the company you’re trying to keep.” He gestures with his free hand down to where Seonghwa lies in the grass. “Here’s the test.”</p><p>Hongjoong takes in Seonghwa’s wide, unseeing eyes, the level rise and fall of his chest, the complete motionlessness around him, as if even the breeze has stopped. “What’s wrong with him?”</p><p>Venus sighs and takes his hand from Saturn’s shoulder. “Look familiar?” he asks, stepping closer to Hongjoong’s side, his eyes studying Seonghwa the same way Hongjoong’s are. “He can’t sleep.”</p><p>“But I told you I was with-”</p><p>“Not now,” Venus hisses. “You’ll make no mention of him in this garden, understood?”</p><p>Hongjoong nods, not trusting his words, uncertain of whether he can keep to such a promise.</p><p>“You should remember the feeling,” Venus says softly, his eyes on Seonghwa. “When you’re there, you’re not really asleep. It doesn’t work like that.”</p><p>This, at least, Hongjoong understands. He remembers the bone-crushing fatigue, the nausea, of those first visits to Mars’ world, the confusion as to why he was still so tired, when he thought he’d been dreaming. </p><p>“When they’re separated for too long, it isn’t good for them. But I suppose if you were there with <em> him, </em> they haven’t been separated long enough for this kind of reaction. Seonghwa just needs to be in control for long enough to fix himself. He needs rest, <em> real </em>rest, without someone interrupting.”</p><p>So Mars is getting more impatient than he’d seemed. Venus thinks Seonghwa’s reacting like this because Mars is taking too much from him- from what hongjoong remembers of the way spending time in Mars’ world exhausted him, it’s hard to disagree. There are tell-tale blue bruises under Seonghwa’s eyes, and though the gold of his skin is the same as the day Hongjoong had first saw him, it looks thinner, the bones of his cheeks a little more noticeable than they’d been before.</p><p>“What do you want me to do?”</p><p>“Nothing. I just need you here so I can tell which one of them’s in control. If you decide to clock out, I can assume it isn’t Seonghwa.”</p><p>Hongjoong ignores the implication that Mars would immediately bring him to his world if he wakes. He doesn’t want to think about that right now. He’s scared of what he’d feel about it.</p><p>“What happens then?”</p><p>For the first time in what feels like a lifetime, the old ten-watt grin grows on Venus’ lips. “Then you’ll have to use your new trick again and send him back here. Think you can do that?”</p><p>“But Ma-<em> he </em> said if I force him out, it shocks Seonghwa. He might remember something. I thought we were going to take things slowly.”</p><p>“We were, but Mars doesn’t seem to like that plan. And if Seonghwa can’t rest, we’ll have worse things to deal with than him remembering something he shouldn’t.”</p><p>Hongjoong doesn’t ask. He has a feeling he doesn’t want to know the details.</p><p>“Why isn’t he reacting?”</p><p>Venus rolls his neck slowly, his eyes closing. Hongjoong looks down to see he’s flexing his fingers, curling and uncurling them into fists. “I didn’t want him to hear us,” he sighs, and aims a pointed look at Hongjoong. “From now on, be careful of what you say.”</p><p> He takes a half step forward and a branch snaps- Seonghwa jolts into a sitting position. </p><p>“Venus- who…” Seonghwa gulps, his wide eyes taking in Hongjoong standing by the bench, darting around the three figures looking down at him. “Who’s that?”</p><p>Hongjoong’s mouth goes dry. Seonghwa’s not like Mars- though their features are the same, Mars is a study of contrasts, porcelain and blue and red, and Seonghwa’s golden skin and dark hair set him apart from all of the magical things about Mars. His unmarked, dark eyes are blown wide, not clever or sly or amused, his clothes dull grey and black, the grass under him an earthly shade, the sunlight catching in his hair. But his voice is the same. The same warmth and depth as Mars’.</p><p>Venus glances between them and sees Hongjoong’s frozen staring. “Seonghwa,” he says softly, knowing Hongjoong won’t speak before him, “this is Hongjoong.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. A Strange Lullaby</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>“He’s a friend from school.”</p><p>How strange it is to hear those words from Venus, after so long resenting Yunho and knowing nothing of his other names. Hongjoong can only nod, hoping his smile is convincing, as he squashes his confusion and surprise. Seonghwa’s dark eyes roam over him.</p><p>Dark eyes. Dark hair, golden skin. Mars and not Mars. Hongjoong has to remind himself that this version came first. This is the boy who molded himself into two to cope with everything the ghosts should never have taught him.</p><p>Hongjoong sinks to the grass slowly, keeping up his smile the entire time. Seonghwa shuffles, but doesn’t move away as Hongjoong crosses his legs beside him.</p><p>“Hello.”</p><p>Seonghwa keeps staring. Though it’s shy of hostile, the air he’s assumed is definitely wary, and Hongjoong internally prays for Venus’ intervention as the silence grows. It’s no use; Venus has already stepped away and taken a space on the bench beside Saturn.</p><p>Seonghwa looks up at them. “Why is he here?”</p><p>Venus raises a shoulder lazily. “For company,” he says, the lie aimlessly easy on his tongue.</p><p>Seonghwa’s eyes flicker between him and Saturn. Without looking at Hongjoong, he asks, “Yours or mine?”</p><p>Venus sighs. “Both, Seonghwa. Are we not in the same garden?”</p><p>“I told you I was fine, Yunho.”</p><p>The name sends a surprised jolt through Hongjoong, who’s so used to thinking of Yunho as Venus now, but of course, he should have expected it. When they’d found him, the names they must have given Seonghwa can’t have been the names in his world. ‘Venus’ was for Mars, and would come later, when they’d already taught him how to find his way to his own world. Seonghwa is as blind as Hongjoong had been, only his is a forced blindness, of his own making, a suppression of the parts of himself too large and strange to survive in this world.</p><p>“Hongjoong has trouble sleeping, too.”</p><p>Seonghwa’s eyes flicker from Venus to him, and Hongjoong nods. He fights to keep his expression neutral as Seonghwa studies him, wary and now perhaps defiant. After a moment, the dark haired boy falls back into the grass and closes his eyes with an impatient huff.</p><p>“I’m not having trouble sleeping,” he says quietly.</p><p>When Hongjoong glances at him, Venus is rolling his eyes. Saturn is cupping his hands at his mouth, and after a moment there is a buzzing, lively sound, and when he uncups his hands a bumblebee flies around the bench and past Seonghwa. </p><p><em> He hates silence, </em> a voice in Hongjoong’s head whispers. It isn’t his own- Venus blinks back at him as another bumblebee buzzes past. <em> Speak. </em></p><p>“You look tired.”</p><p>Seonghwa opens his eyes and squints against the sun. His voice is dry as he mutters, “How complementary.”</p><p>Hongjoong winces. Seonghwa is less timid than he’d seemed. Some of Mars' clever confidence rests just under the surface of exhausted passivity.  “It wasn’t an insult. I just...I’ve seen you before, is all. You look more tired today than you did then.”</p><p>He’d been referring to the moment he’d glimpsed Seonghwa across a busy street, though he feels the two figures on the bench behind him tense as if he’d just mentioned Mars by name.</p><p>The sunlight catches on the gold of Seonghwa's cheeks, coloring his eyes a lighter amber as he turns his face to Hongjoong. “We’ve met before?”</p><p>Hongjoong stares out across the grass. His mouth is dry. His hands shake. “Not <em> met, </em> exactly-”</p><p>“I wondered why you seemed familiar.”</p><p>“I saw you outside the school gates one day. You must have saw me, too.”</p><p>Seonghwa watches him for a long time. The buzzing and rustling around them fills the silence, and Hongjoong finds he’s grateful for it too, that it takes away some of the tension he’d been carrying without noticing, loosening muscles that’d been tensed so long that his body aches. Fatigue and awakeness war as they always do when he thinks about Mars’ world, and it’s impossible not to think about Mars’ world with Seonghwa in front of him.  </p><p>If Seonghwa is suspicious of how Hongjoong knows him, he doesn’t show it. Where Mars would argue, entrap, Seonghwa yields. He turns his face from Hongjoong’s.</p><p>“Must have.”</p><p>He goes back to staring up at the blue sky above them. Hongjoong, for the first time, lets himself really <em> look. </em>His eyes trail over Seonghwa’s form, skim across the sharp panes of near-hollow cheeks, dark eyes, the shadow-black of waved hair. Seonghwa must sense eyes on him, but he does nothing, just allows Hongjoong to stare, and then closes his eyes. Mars would say something. Hongjoong should say something.</p><p>“Wouldn’t you be more comfortable inside, if you’re trying to sleep?”</p><p>Seonghwa’s voice is tired, as if he’s given this explanation a hundred times already. “It’s too quiet inside.”</p><p> Perhaps it’s because of Yeosang, or the memories of the exhaustion he’d felt himself, and still sometimes feels, when travelling between worlds, but Hongjoong had expected Seonghwa to be...different. He’d expected the same distant gazes, distracted looks, that Yeosang always wears, some impatient anger, fumbling over words. But whilst Seonghwa outwardly shows all of the effects of unworldly exhaustion, from the dark bruises under his eyes to the slight tremor in his fingers, it’s clear he’s more accustomed to this. His words are clear and certain, his eyes when he forces them open observant. He doesn’t seem like a broken thing Hongjoong should handle with care.</p><p>“What do you do when you can’t sleep?”</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>At least he’s more patient than Mars- Seonghwa repeats the question without irritation.</p><p>“Oh. I don’t know. I wait, I guess. Eventually I’ll be so tired, I’ll have no choice but to fall asleep.” Seonghwa nods, running his hands through his hair to keep it from his eyes. “Sorry,” Hongjoong offers. “It’s not very helpful.”</p><p>“I don’t know why Venus brought you here, but I doubt it’s to help me sleep. And <em>you</em>-” he turns to look up at Venus “-are being uncharacteristically quiet.”</p><p>Yunho gives him a wide smile just shy of his usual 10-watt brilliance. “You’d rather talk to me than our guest? You’re not sick of hearing my voice?”</p><p>Seonghwa laughs through a sigh. “I’m sure I can still hear it in my sleep,” he jokes, and Hongjoong has to smother the instinct to look over his shoulder and see Venus’ reaction, because the air immediately leaves the garden.</p><p>“How about we play a game?”</p><p>It’s Mercury’s instinct, not Hongjoong’s, and Hongjoong is just as surprised as the others who all turn to peer at him.</p><p>“A game?” Seonghwa frowns, and Hongjoong nods. “I don’t like games very much-”</p><p>“It’s an easy one.”</p><p>Seonghwa sighs. “Sure. Why not.”</p><p>“What’s the game?” Venus asks from behind them. Hongjoong doesn’t think he’s imagining the warning tone under the words.</p><p>He must admit, it’s a risk. Reminding Seonghwa of Mars and an entire world that’s been locked away from him for so long might be too much to handle, even reintroduced slowly, and Hongjoong isn’t sure this counts as ‘slowly’. But it’s an idea, the only one he has, and Mercury whispers its merit in the back of his mind, tempting. Mars would follow his intuition.</p><p>So Hongjoong says, “It’s a listing game. As many red things you can think of.”</p><p>Seonghwa frowns. “That doesn’t seem like a very fun game.”</p><p>“It’s not really a game,” Hongjoong concedes. “It’s just easier to focus on something than let your mind wander. It helps me sleep.” It’s not entirely a lie, but it’s not the truth either. It hadn’t helped him fall asleep; it’d helped him call up the image of Mars’ world in his mind, in the hopes of waking there, instead of his own bed. It was as unsuccessful as he’d expected it to be, and he’d tried to stop after the first few nights, but couldn’t quite keep his mind from wandering to Mars’ world and counting them anyway.</p><p>Seonghwa considers it for a few silent moments, and then he nods. “Alright,” he says, voice small. “At the very least, I’ve never tried it before.”</p><p>“I’ll start.” Something innocent. Not related to Mars. “Cherries.”</p><p>Dammit. The candyfloss. The connections are there even when he tries to avoid them.</p><p>But Seonghwa doesn’t react. “Strawberries.”</p><p>“Poppies.” That ones safe.</p><p>“Tomatoes,” Seonghwa sighs.</p><p>“Raspberries.” <em> Great. Back to fruit again. </em></p><p>Seonghwa huffs, already growing exasperated. “Lipstick."</p><p>“That can be any colour,” Venus prompts, like a teacher pointing out the attitude of a particularly disinterested student.</p><p>“<em> Fine… </em>blood.”</p><p>“Roses.” <em> No. They aren’t all red. </em></p><p>Seonghwa’s tired expression is settling into a confused scowl. He doesn’t seem to notice the problem with Hongjoong’s answer. “Candyfloss.”</p><p>It’s a wrong answer. If Hongjoong hadn’t been straining to hear one, he wouldn’t have noticed, because all cotton candy is crimson to him now, and he can only just conjure the image of the bubblegum pinks and blues of their real forms. The garden is still, and the air is heavy. Seonghwa’s still frowning at his own answer. </p><p>“Octopuses,” Hongjoong risks, heart racing.</p><p>Seonghwa’s eyes are half-lidded as he lays back in the grass. “They’re pink,” he mumbles.</p><p><em> Are they? </em>Hongjoong can’t remember.</p><p>He tries to think of another. Marbels, handkerchiefs, circus tents.</p><p>“Red thread,” they both say, at the same time.</p><p>When Hongjoong looks down at him, Seonghwa’s eyes are closed.</p><p>“This is a strange lullaby,” he says murmurs, fatigue softening his voice, and then he’s asleep.</p><p>No one speaks. A bumblebee buzzes past and then settles silent and still in the grass. Hongjoong lays down beside it, on his back, and closes his eyes. He waits for something to pull him under. Something does.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Say My Name</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>Mars’ back is to him, when Hongjoong comes to. </p><p>They’re in the tent, the two-sided desk between them, Mars sitting quietly on the side closest to Hongjoong, facing the rest of the room. Wooyoung and San are nowhere to be seen. The air is charged and thin and Hongjoong is instantly breathless, light headed as if he were high on a mountain top, thousands of metres above the sea.</p><p>Mars doesn’t turn to look at him.</p><p>“Sit down.”</p><p>Hongjoong doesn’t move. Wind whistles past the entrance of the tent behind him.</p><p>“<em>Mercury</em>.”</p><p>It’s a warning, and Hongjoong’s body responds with a rush of fear that pushes him forward, past Mars and to the empty chair on the opposite side of the desk. He sits, and bites his tongue to stifle a gasp.</p><p>Mars doesn’t look like himself. The usual icy coolness of his skin is striking, the blonde of his hair a truer white than it has ever been, and the red mark across his eye seeps, a scarlet so bright it’s difficult for Hongjoong to focus when he’s looking at it. The blue of his eyes glowers, but even they are a close-to-white shade.</p><p>“Drink.”</p><p>Mars slides a goblet full of something syrupy and wine-coloured across the desk, and Hongjoong takes it with shaking fingers, but doesn’t bring it to his lips.</p><p>“Where are San and Wooyoung?”</p><p>“Hiding, presumably.” Mars shrugs, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back into his chair. “I told you to drink,” he says calmly.</p><p>“I’m not thirsty.” He’s not sure what’s in the glass, but to look so angered, Mars must know about Venus’ plan and Hongjoong’s part in it. Hongjoong should be waking him up. Seonghwa must be in the garden now, torn from his sleep, staring unseeing up at the sky as Mars takes over. </p><p>As if sensing his thoughts, Mars spreads his arms out in an inviting gesture. “Are you not going to get on with it?”</p><p>But Hongjoong isn’t sure if he can. He’s not sure he wants too, either, and that’s so much worse.</p><p>“You’re angry with me,” he says.</p><p>Instead of acknowledging this, Mars says: “You met Seonghwa.”</p><p>“He doesn’t seem as weak as people have been making him out to be.”</p><p>Mars laughs derisively. “If he were as strong as you thought him, why would he have need of me?”</p><p>As if with every word out of Mars’ mouth, the tent grows colder. What had begun as a barely noticeable chill now fogs Hongjoong’s breath in the air, stinging the tops of his ears and numbing his fingers.</p><p>“You’re hurting him.”</p><p>The red slash across Mars’ eye seems to brighten, as if Hongjoong’s words had manifested as a deeper wound that seeps crimson across the bone of his cheek. “You’re very quick to take his side.”</p><p>“I’m not taking sides. He just needs rest, Mars. Without you interrupting.”</p><p>“He needs more <em> rest </em> everyday!” Mars snaps. “Do you think I’m not tired of being stowed away in a dark corner as he gets his <em> rest?” </em></p><p>Hongjoong sits straighter. The sharp, cold energy in the air has started shivering across his arms in stabbing needles of ice, but he ignores it, staring at Mars’ twisted, wrathful expression until it begins to settle into its usual calm, and then he starts: “Mars...have you ever thought that maybe this world isn’t good for you?”</p><p>“This world was made for me.”</p><p>“But it's ruining the part of you left in the other world. My world. It’s taking all your colour, Mars.”</p><p>At first, Hongjoong had thought that Mars had started looking more vicious and strange after he’d saw Seonghwa, and saw the contrast between the two boys. But now it’s clear, that even without the added complication of comparing him to Seonghwa, Mars is becoming less like himself with every visit. Hongjoong wonders for the first time whether Mars in the beginning, when this world was new, had been a mirror image of Seonghwa, in all of his blacks and golds, instead of the icy whites and blues he’d become. The thought leaves him uneasy, because it is easy to see the likelihood of it being true.</p><p>“This is my world. I can’t exist in another.”</p><p>In his panic and his fear, Hongjoong feels his voice harden into something meaner. “what happens to us when we’re Here, Mars? What happens to the bodies we leave behind?”</p><p>Mars huffs an impatient exhale. “They wait,” he says, a note of exhaustion finally making it into his voice, a shrug lifting his shoulders.</p><p>“They’d rot if you let them.” It’s harsh, and Hongjoong is surprised at himself even as he says it, before realising the words might not entirely be his own. He presses down on his anger, trying to be kinder than he feels in this world, with all the icy air around him. “Seonghwa is a part of you no matter how much you deny it. Leaving him to waste away There isn’t good for you either.” </p><p>Mars glares across at him from the other side of the desk. There’s a challenge in his bright eyes, but when Hongjoong matches it, more Mercury in this world than the one he’d come from, letting himself feel stubborn and exasperated and righteously angered, Mars slumps. The fight goes out of him visibly- the mark across his eye fades, shrinking back to almost it’s usual size, no longer glistening like blood in the dim red light of the tent.</p><p>“Mars,” Hongjoong breathes, gentler. “You’re so pale.”</p><p>“Everyone always takes his side.”</p><p>It’s petulant and childish and sounds practiced on his tongue, as if it were something a younger Mars complained about to Venus, or to Saturn. </p><p>“You’ve only spoken to him once and already here you are, telling me to be kinder to him.”</p><p>Hongjoong shakes his head. “You’re the same person, Mars. Being kinder to Seonghwa would be being kinder to yourself, too.”</p><p>The soft rapping sound of fingernails on wood fills a short silence as Mars thinks. </p><p>“So you want me to let him sleep,” he sighs. “You think that’s going to solve our problem? He’ll be fine for a few days, at most, before the split starts to become too much again. We weren’t supposed to be separated.”</p><p>Hongjoong frowns. He had thought Mars had woken up all by himself, a stranger, stronger part of Seonghwa that had rejected the rest, and found a place for himself Here, but now it’s starting to sound as if the separation hadn’t been voluntary.</p><p>He cautiously reaches for the whispering voice in the back of his mind, feeling it greet him like the twist of red threads around his fingers. It traps him, but slinks away again. What Mercury had said about Seonghwa had sounded opposed to separation, not in favour of taking control. </p><p>But Mars is different. Mars is slowly seeping all of the life out of Seonghwa, even if his motivations can’t be said to be entirely hostile, just fighting for time to exist Here, no matter the cost to his other half.</p><p>“If you weren’t meant to be separated, why are you here?”</p><p>“Because Venus and Saturn didn’t want to say goodbye. So they helped Seonghwa find a way to exist in both worlds, so he wouldn’t feel like he didn’t belong in either. He’d burned himself during the night, one of the tricks Saturn had taught him that he couldn’t control anymore, and they made the choice for us.”</p><p>“So if you went back, if you weren’t separated anymore, Seonghwa wouldn’t be able to control all the things you can do?”</p><p>Fingernails tap against the desk again. Mars looks down at his hands. “He’s not supposed to know the things they taught me. There are rules, and going back would break them. And Seonghwa too, perhaps.”</p><p>“<em>Rules</em>,” Hongjoong huffs. “So people keep telling me. What <em>rules</em> are there, Mars?”</p><p>Sensing the conversation is going to be longer than he’d expected, and that Hongjoong has abandoned the notion of waking him before getting answers, Mars plucks the goblet from the table and drops it to the ground- the broken pieces have shattered and disappeared before it hits the floor. “Venus and Saturn must seem invincible, from where you’re standing, but even they have people to answer to.”</p><p>A puzzle piece clicks in Hongjoong’s mind. “The people who’re responsible for what happened to Yeosang,” he muses. “Who made everyone forget him.” He’s thinking aloud, barely registering the fact that Mars is listening, but the pale boy surprises him by nodding.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Hongjoong stares at his expressionless features. “You know about Yeosang?”</p><p>An unreadable expression crosses fleetingly across Mars’ careful features. “Venus used to speak about him.”</p><p>Neither of them have anything to say. The mention of Venus and whatever past he’d had with Yeosang has quieted them both, and Hongjoong shivers, more aware of the icy air in the tent than ever. His lungs ache with it. </p><p>Mars smiles suddenly, and flicks his wrist. A single red thread is revealed through the gesture, wound around his pale wrist like a shackle.</p><p>“You’ve been trying to make Seonghwa remember me,” he says, and tugs on the thread, as if calling it to Hongjoong’s attention, as if his gaze hadn’t already been fixated on the line of red across Mars’ skin.</p><p>“It wasn’t a very good game,” Mars adds, and Hongjoong looks up at him, surprised, to see a sly grin. He laughs, his breath forming a cloud of cold white air, and Mars hums in amusement.</p><p>“I didn’t know what to say,” Hongjoong admits. “It’s strange, seeing you, and not seeing <em> you.” </em></p><p>Mars circles his wrist in the air again, and the thread is gone.</p><p>Hongjoong hesitates. “I’m not on his side,” he says quietly. He feels Mars still, trying to catch the quiet words. “I just know that I won’t be able to visit you here forever. I don’t know how long I’d be able to justify it, putting my life on hold to be Here.”</p><p>Something flickers across Mars' pale eyes. “You don’t want to be Here?”</p><p>“Always, Mars." He chooses his words carefully, his voice quiet and halting, coming in starts and stops at first as he tries to sort his thoughts into something understandable. "But it isn’t...good for me. Or Seonghwa. It’s wasting us all away, being Here.”</p><p>Mars studies him for a moment long enough for Hongjoong to fear another bought of anger, but then says, “What do you want me to do?”</p><p>“Let us rest. Not for long. Just enough that he can get his strength back. And help me remind him, about you. Slowly. We can see what happens together. If he can’t take it, we stop.”</p><p>Mars tilts his head and asks the question Hongjoong had been waiting for: “What’s in it for me?”</p><p>“You need rest too, Mars. You can’t deny it.”</p><p>“Tricksy. So much time Here was made you into a fine negotiator,” Mars notes, recovering some of his sly amusement, and Hongjoong smiles softly.</p><p>“I’ve learned from the best.”</p><p>With a laugh, Mars settles back into his chair. “Go on then,” he says, closing his eyes. “It's about time you did as Venus asked.”</p><p>Hongjoong hesitates. He'd been too focused on their conversation to prepare himself for this moment.</p><p>“Can I?” He'd only did it once, and even know he isn't entirely sure how.</p><p>“Can you not feel it in the air?” One of Mars’ eyes open, the one tattooed with red, fleeting over Hongjoong’s face before it slowly closes again. “It’s a Maker day.”</p><p>The lack of warmth in the room had seemed to Hongjoong like an effect of Mars’ anger, but now he remembers the sudden shiver that had run across him when he’d found the threads, when Mars had disappeared, whenever Mars had stepped closer and Hongjoong had noticed the strange energy he radiates. He’d felt this chill before, though not as sharply. “This is what it feels like?”</p><p>Mars hadn't seemed to notice the cold before, but now he crosses his arms, blocking some of it out. “Not quite. It hasn’t been this cold before.”</p><p>“Then why-”</p><p>“It’s a two person Maker day. Twice the energy. Now hurry up before I lose patience and wake us both up myself.”</p><p>Hongjoong tries and fails to pull up the threads Mars had once wound around him. He feels a tug at his wrist, but before he can concentrate on it, the sensation is gone as quickly as it had came. As if sensing the failed attempts, Mars opens his eyes, gets to his feet, and circles his desk just as he had when he'd taught Hongjoong.</p><p>He doesn't seem impatient at Hongjoong's lack of control- the cold fingers that take Hongjoong's wrist are gentle and slow. He winds only one thread around Hongjoong's fingers, the same string of red lopping around every finger a few times and then once at his wrist.</p><p>"There," he says, as he releases Hongjoong's hand. He perches lightly on the desk and closes his eyes again. "Go on."</p><p>He doesn't want to. Hongjoong can feel the ghost of cold fingers on his palm, across his fingertips, on the soft flesh of his wrist. But he thinks of Seonghwa in the garden, unknowingly staring up at the sky, and knows he has to.</p><p>“Say my name again before we go.”</p><p>Mars smiles without opening his eyes. “Which one?” he asks innocently.</p><p>Hongjoong studies his features as he tries the thread that bends to his every movement. “You know which one.”</p><p>“Mercury,” Mars says softly, and with that, they wake up.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Out Of Reach</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>A hand clamps over his mouth and Hongjoong struggles, uselessly fighting against the grip on his collar that drags him through the grass and back towards the house. When they’re near the door, the hand releases him, and Hongjoong jumps to his feet to see Venus glaring at him, his eyes an unnatural shade of bright violet. He gives Hongjoong a pointed look, and steps through the doorway. Hongjoong follows, and finds himself shoved against a wall as Venus locks the door behind them.</p><p>“What are you doing?”</p><p>“Was I not clear enough?” Venus growls. “Did I not tell you exactly what I expected of you?”</p><p>“I did as you asked.”</p><p>Venus tilts his head and steps closer, only a few inches between them, making it all the more clear how his features twist into an angry, wolfish smile and his violet eyes spark. “How long do you think you’ve been gone, Hongjoong?” he asks quietly, his voice barely restrained. </p><p>“I wanted to speak to him.”</p><p>“I told you to wake him up.”</p><p>“I <em>did</em>,” Hongjoong reminds him, voice firm and unwavering. “If you were so worried, why didn’t you just do it yourself?”</p><p>Venus' eyes are bright, the same irridescent shade of purple as the potion Mars had insisted upon for a failsafe during their lesson, like the color in his irises is swirling, constantly moving. “You think I wouldn’t have if I could?”</p><p>“Then you-what?” Venus stares him down, challenging, but Hongjoong’s mind is slow from the sudden awakening, and he doesn’t understand.</p><p>"I can't go to Mars' world, Hongjoong."</p><p>“What do you mean, you can’t?”</p><p>Venus laughs meanly. “Did you think Yeosang was the only one punished for what we did? <em> I </em> showed him things he should never have seen, <em> I </em>taught Seonghwa.”</p><p>Suddenly every instance Venus had refused to help when he could have is put into a different perspective. That day he'd found Hongjoong in the school bathroom, willing the mirror to turn into a doorway for him like it had for Wooyoung, failing miserably. He'd said he wouldn't help- this had been the reason all along?</p><p>“You really can’t go to Mars’ world?”</p><p>“I can’t go to any world anymore.” Venus’ smile is a haunting thing, wide and wild and bitter. The color of his eyes starts to fade to their usual near-black as his anger leaves him. “Not even my own.”</p><p>Ignoring his reflection in the window, Hongjoong looks out across the garden. He can’t see Seonghwa, past the rows of trees that cover the clearing, but somehow he knows he’s sleeping, finally. The anxious, effervescent energy that'd been in the air has started to calm, as if the house and the garden themselves had worried over Seonghwa, too.</p><p>“You realise that’s what Mars is risking with you, don’t you?” There’s no reflection of Venus in the glass- Hongjoong has to look back up at him to see Venus' expression, though it's closed and cold, and he can glean nothing from it. “He shouldn’t have taught you what he did.”</p><p>“You mean he could be locked out, too?”</p><p>It’d been a few moments, since he’d been persuading Mars to leave it behind. But this feels different, this feels irreversible, a complete absence of a comfort he’d intended to wean Mars off of slowly. He hadn’t expected him to leave it behind entirely, just visit less often, for Seonghwa’s sake, if they somehow managed to live in one body again. To have it taken away, permanently, because of Hongjoong, seems a much crueller reality.</p><p>“They’re giving you more time than they gave us,” Venus muses, more trepidatious than resentful. “You’ve discovered too much already, but they haven’t showed up.”</p><p>His eyes narrow, slowly taking in Hongjoong’s stance, his expression, the air around him. It should be a comforting thought, to be given more time than Yeosang had been given, but Venus clearly thinks there’s something wrong, and an uneasy feeling settles in Hongjoong’s stomach. He feels like he’s being watched.</p><p>“Venus,” Hongjoong starts quietly, and then corrects himself under an irritated glare- “Yunho, I was thinking...well, I hadn’t thought about Wooyoung and San, and when I woke up I realised-”</p><p>Venus shakes his head, understanding what Hongjoong is struggling to say before he can finish the thought. “You don’t need to worry about them.”</p><p>“I don’t?”</p><p>“Mars wouldn’t have agreed to help you if he thought they would suffer. He knows they’ll be fine.”</p><p>“But if Mars tries to come back here they’ll be alone, won’t they?”</p><p>“They’ll likely follow him," Venus shrugs. </p><p>“How…” the words are leaden on his tongue, they taste bitter, but his guilt compels him to speak them- “how long will they last?”</p><p>Venus shakes his head, wearing a small frown, one corner of his mouth rising higher than the other. “You think they’re part of Mars’s world? That they’ll just cease to exist without him?” Hongjoong nods. Venus laughs soundlessly and quirks a brow. “What is the difference between them and I, Hongjoong? Surely you noticed, they must have given you quite the fright.”</p><p>By now he should be prepared for Venus’ impromptu tests, his curious prodding, but the question catches him off guard, and Hongjoong frowns. “What?”</p><p>“Mars sent them after you, Hongjoong. Remember?”</p><p>Hongjoong stares past Venus into the garden as he thinks. His image in the glass of the window frowns back at him, and gives him his answer. </p><p>In the bathroom. San’s dark expressions light in ghoulish fluorescence. “I could see their reflections. They don't have There names.”</p><p>They’d been there, in the mirror, San suddenly hovering behind his shoulder in the looking glass, Wooyoung’s arm disappearing into a pool of liquid silver. Not like Venus, or Saturn, not ghosts without reflections. He'd thought the names they spoke like nothings weren't real, that they only had one each because Mars had given them, but he hadn't thought about the possibility that they only had one name each because they didn't belong in Mars world enough to earn another. </p><p>“But what does that mean? They’re like me?”</p><p>Mars had mentioned people crossing over into his world before. Most visited only once, thought they were dreaming, forgot about it. But there had been nothing in his words that meant this couldn’t have happened before, for an accidental visit to turn into something more.</p><p>“San wandered into Mars world first,” Venus says. “Wooyoung came later.”</p><p>“They’re from this world?”</p><p>Venus laughs shortly, though there’s an obvious lack of amusement to the sound. “You thought they were Mars’ invention? Imaginary friends?”</p><p>“It- it seemed that way to me.”</p><p>San’s drastic mood swings, stony blank glares and high-pitched laughter, Wooyoung’s nonsensical blabber. They had seemed like caricatures, something a younger Mars would create to drive away his loneliness.</p><p>“It would be a strange transition for them, were they to return,” Venus acknowledges. “But eventually they might have found their way out of Mars’ world without the help. It might be good for them.”</p><p>“So it could happen, then. Mars could come back here.”</p><p>“He’s a part of Seonghwa,” Venus shrugs. “If he stopped fighting for control and left his world for this one, they could be as they used to be. I can’t say whether being whole again would help them, but I know they should  never haven been separated. It was our mistake. We shouldn’t have forced them apart.”</p><p>Even as he feels a spike of anger at being reminded of the fact that it had all been Venus and Saturn’s doing, the sadness in Venus is enough to bring out some sympathy, too, in Hongjoong. “You were just trying to protect Seonghwa.”</p><p>“This is why the rules aren’t meant to be broken, Hongjoong. People can’t exist in two worlds at once. We thought trying to lock Mars up somewhere he could do as he pleased might help them, but we were wrong. ”</p><p>People can't exist in two worlds at once. It's why Seonghwa stares blankly at the sky when Mars takes over, why Hongjoong had felt so tired the first times he'd visited, when he'd thought he'd been dreaming.</p><p>“But what about you and Saturn? You use your tricks all the time, and it doesn’t seem to affect you.”</p><p>Venus gives him an indulgent smile. “It’s different when you’re dead. There’s not as much of you to ruin, so, the travelling’s easier. <em> Was </em> easier.”</p><p>There’s a soft click behind them, and suddenly Saturn is standing a pace away, looking between them. </p><p>“How is-”</p><p>“He’s sleeping," Saturn interrupts. "Finally.”</p><p>“You might as well go home,” Venus sighs, turning back to Hongjoong. There’s an edge to his voice that makes it sound less like a suggestion and more like an order. “He’ll sleep the day through, at least.”</p><p>The thought of leaving sends a rush of anxiety through him. “Can I come back? When Seonghwa’s awake?”</p><p>Saturn’s voice is stubborn- “Why?”</p><p>“I want to talk to him." Hongjoong focuses on Venus instead, hoping he'll be easier to sway, fighting the urge to grab his wrist and plead. "I told Mars I’d help him remember so they can be together again, but I can’t do that without talking to Seonghwa.”</p><p>Venus interrupts before Saturn can oppose again. </p><p>“Let him.” </p><p>He meets Saturns’ eye, and a look passes between them that is difficult for Hongjoong to decipher, that seems to hold centuries, ancient and tired and full of sorrow. “It’s been so long since we saw Mars, Saturn,” Venus says softly, and Hongjoong realises there’s another reason for Venus to put his trust in him, to hope for the same things he hopes for, now worlds and worlds are out of his reach. “Perhaps we don’t know what’s best for him anymore.”</p><p>It’s a lot to carry on his shoulders. Hongjoong doesn’t feel deserving of trust he almost broke only moments ago, when he’d been so reluctant to wake Mars and let Seonghwa take over. But it steels his resolve, to see Venus is on his side.</p><p>“I’ll go,” he says, not wanting to break the strange reverie between them, his voice quiet. “Find me when Seonghwa’s awake again, please.” </p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Something That Starts With An M</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong suspects another visit from Mars before he meets Seonghwa again, but it doesn’t come. Mars seems to have committed to the idea of giving Hongjoong what he’d asked for, because Seonghwa sleeps for an entire day and then, when Venus once again leads Hongjoong through the garden towards him, he’s awake, and talking, still in control.</p><p>“He’s back already?”</p><p>For a moment, Hongjoong isn’t in the garden. He’s in a red-lit tent, blinking at an unfamiliar, pale figure, who asks, in the same voice, <em> What’s he doing back already? </em> It’d been the first thing he'd ever heard Mars say, the second time Hongjoong had saw him, and hearing such a similar question from Seonghwa has him reeling.</p><p>Venus steps in as he stumbles for something to say and comes up blank. “He asked after you.”</p><p>Seonghwa looks Hongjoong up and down with a strange expression, as if trying to decide whether to be pleased or not. His eyes find Venus again, and he says, like a child whining to a parent, “I don’t need more games, I’m not tired anymore.”</p><p>“I just came to say hello,” Hongjoong cuts in. “No games.” Seonghwa eyes him, and cautiously, Hongjoong lowers himself into the grass, sitting the same way the other boy is, his legs drawn out in front of him. “I know you don’t like them.”</p><p>The fact that he’d remembered something Seonghwa had told him last time they’d met in this garden earns him more wariness than appreciation- Seonghwa’s eyes narrow.</p><p>“What did you say your name was again?” he asks.</p><p>“Hongjoong.”</p><p>A curious look passes over Seonghwa’s expression, almost a frown. He glances in the direction Venus had gone, back to the house. Is he confused?</p><p>Trying to keep his voice neutral, Hongjoong risks a question. “What did you think it was?”</p><p>Seonghwa lies back in the grass, sighing as if it doesn’t make sense to him, either. Just as Hongjoong is scolding himself, for hoping for something so out of reach, Seonghwa mumbles, “Something that starts with an M.”</p><p>Of course, it must sound ridiculous to him. Not a name for a person. He can’t remember the other There names, either.</p><p>“Mercury’s a nickname.” Seonghwa looks up at him suddenly, and Hongjoong tries to laugh in a way that sounds convincing and knowing and doesn’t shake on the way out. “It’s a long story.”</p><p>Seonghwa turns away, staring at the sky, as a bumblebee buzzes past above him. Hongjoong tries to covertly peer at him, seeing the unnatural pallor has mainly faded from Seonghwa’s golden skin, and his eyes aren’t dry, or surrounded by dark shadows, like they had been. Mars is being patient, so it seems.</p><p>“Is staring a habit of yours?”</p><p>Hongjoong looks away quickly, scolded. “Sorry. I was just thinking you look more like yourself today.”</p><p>Seonghwa thinks for a moment, silent, and then before Hongjoong can realise what’s wrong with his words, wonders aloud, “More like myself?”</p><p>They’ve only met once. Seonghwa knows that Hongjoong had seen him outside of school, before that, but even then two sightings doesn’t seem enough to justify Hongjoong’s statement.</p><p>“Better,” he corrects. “You look better.”</p><p>Seonghwa shuffles onto his elbows so he can see Hongjoong’s face. There’s something in his gaze that reminds Hongjoong of Mars, analysing and clever, and for a moment he wants to turn away from it, before remembering that whatever Seonghwa sees in him might help them, bring up memories of him, and returns the stare.</p><p>“Are you sure we haven’t met before?” Seonghwa asks quietly.</p><p>“Do I seem familiar?”</p><p>Seonghwa frowns at him, but then shakes his head. “Just a very strange stranger," he says, not unkindly.</p><p>Disappointment is bitter on his tongue, but Hongjoong forces himself to laugh. “Strange in what way?”</p><p>As an answer, Seonghwa gives a question of his own. “Mercury like the planet, or the God?”</p><p>“I-” his voice dies in his throat. He’d never considered it before, though the idea had come so quickly to Seonghwa. “I don’t know.”</p><p>“How can you not know? It’s <em> your </em>name, isn’t it?”</p><p>“Someone gave it to me.” Not entirely true, since it had been something he learned for himself before Mars had used it, but he’d been told not to mention Mars’ world, so it’s the closest to the truth he can get.</p><p>Seonghwa watches a bee land on a daisy by his hand. “Then you’ll have to ask them.”</p><p>Mars, Venus. Saturn and Mercury. They’re all both. </p><p>The double meanings sound like something Mars would do. No doubt there are both planets and Gods in the list, just to confuse things. But which are the planet, and which the Gods?</p><p>Hongjoong absently pats his pocket and feels the object he’d hidden there that morning. Seonghwa’s eyes follow the motion curiously, and he’s back to wondering whether he should do it. He’d woken up with it in his hand, no memory of how it had gotten there, so it must be from Mars. But did he mean it as a gift, or did he intend for Hongjoong to use it like he's thinking of using it?</p><p>Perhaps it’s both, too, Hongjoong thinks, so he takes out the little red chess piece and shows it to Seonghwa.</p><p>Vague curiosity is the only thing in the other boy’s expression as he takes it, holding out a flat palm for Hongjoong to drop the pawn into, and then he holds it up to his face, studying it closely.</p><p>“What’s this?”</p><p>“Just something I keep around,” Hongjoong lies. “A gift. From the same person who gave me my other name.”</p><p>“You can hardly play chess with one pawn,” Seonghwa muses, turning it around in his hand.</p><p>“It’s good you don’t like games, then,” Hongjoong says, “because we can’t play anyway.”</p><p>Seonghwa laughs a little, at that, and Hongjoong feels far too pleased at his ability to draw out the soft sound, even if it’s so short and quiet.</p><p>“Do you know how to play?”</p><p>Seonghwa settles into the grass again without handing back the chess piece. “Not without cheating,” he says.</p><p><em> You and someone else I know, </em>Hongjoong thinks. Seonghwa’s cheating seems more a consequence of not knowing the game than Mars’ self aware trickery, though.</p><p>Seonghwa holds the pawn in the air above his head and looks up at it. “Another red thing,” he notes. </p><p>“A coincidence,” Hongjoong says hastily, laughing through the lie. He gestures to where Seonghwa holds the pawn aloft. “He used to do magic tricks with it.”</p><p>“Magic with a chess piece?” Seonghwa asks, perplexed. “What kind of tricks can you do with a pawn?”</p><p>Hongjoong shrugs, though Seonghwa isn’t looking at him. “I don’t know. I could never figure out how he was doing it.”</p><p>“Well, how do you know he did something?”</p><p>Hoongjoong picks his words carefully, conscious of giving away too much to quickly. “It looked different, after he did it.”</p><p>“<em>Different</em>,” Seonghwa repeats dubiously.</p><p>“It was a long time ago,” Hongjoong says, pretending to have forgotten the details he can’t explain. “You don’t know any tricks, do you?”</p><p>Seonghwa laughs. This time, Hongjoong finds he doesn’t enjoy the sound nearly as much. He’d been hoping for a yes, or at least something other than outright derision.</p><p>“Show me what he did, and I might try,” Seonghwa says drily, only because it had seemed so obvious that Hongjoong couldn’t remember.</p><p>But Hongjoong <em>does</em> remember, and he seizes the opportunity as soon as he sees it. Seonghwa jolts slightly as he grabs the pawn, and covers it with one hand cupped over the other.</p><p>Seonghwa laughs, but sits back on his elbows again, watching.</p><p>“Go on, then.”</p><p>A sweat breaks out on Hongjoong’s forehead. Maybe in the other world, he’d be able to do this. Mercury has been quiet, a barely noticeable presence in the back of his mind, the part of himself that might be capable of this.</p><p>He groans, and gives up, showing Seonghwa the unchanged pawn in his hand.</p><p>“I guess I’m not cut out for magic,” he says, more petulantly than he’d meant to, knowing it’s not the impossibility Seonghwa must think it is. </p><p>The dark haired boy laughs at him and takes the chess piece.</p><p>“Should I try?” he jokes, and cups his hands just as Hongjoong had. He shakes the pawn around, hidden from sight, and even annoyed as he is, and nervous, Hongjoong chuckles at the sight of how childish it is.</p><p>Seonghwa opens his hands and tosses the tiny object in the air, cheekily smiling at Hongjoong, who scrambles to catch it just before it lands in the grass. He goes to put the pawn in his pocket.</p><p>Only it isn’t a pawn, anymore. It’s a boy. A little red wooden boy, the same that had walked across a chessboard at Mars' hand.</p><p>Seonghwa spots it too, and his mouth falls open.</p><p>“How did you do that?” he asks, his warm voice high-pitched with excitement and disbelief. At least he seems to appreciate tricks more than games.</p><p>Hongjoong shakes his head. “I-I didn’t, it was you.”</p><p>“Don’t lie,” Seonghwa giggles, shoving Hongjoong’s shoulder. “I know you did something.”</p><p>“I didn’t!”</p><p>Seonghwa throws his head back and laughs louder this time, the sound almost similar to Mars’ bark of a laugh. “You pretended you couldn’t remember just so you could do it at the last second and now you're pretending it was me!”</p><p>Hongjoong’s smiling, despite how fast his heartbeat thuds in his ears, unable to stop himself from catching some of Seonghwa’s childlike glee. “Am not!”</p><p>"Where's the pawn?" Seonghwa demands, and reaches forward, patting Hongjoon's pockets, his shirt, looking past him as if thinking he could have thrown it into a shrub.</p><p>"It's gone," Hongjoong laughs, pushing him back to his spot. Seonghwa raises a brow at him.</p><p>“Does Yunho know he’s invited a magician into our garden?”</p><p>Hongjoong shoves the chess piece into his pocket, fearing it will turn back and confuse Seonghwa further, and forces a grin.</p><p>Even as he’s pleased so see Seonghwa’s good mood, he can’t find it in himself to laugh along. Mars had said he’d been separated from Seonghwa because the tricks Venus and Saturn had taught him were too much for Seonghwa to control, and now, seeing how little effort it had taken Seonghwa to change the pawn into its other form, the danger of reuniting him with Mars is far more believable.</p><p>But Seonghwa’s still grinning, unharmed, and the chess piece sits stationary in Hongjoong’s pocket. Maybe they’re safe, if they take it slow. Maybe Seonghwa’s tricks can be managed, if Hongjoong is there to calm him, if Mars is on his side.</p><p>Maybe.</p>
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<a name="section0022"><h2>22. All Tied Up</h2></a>
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    <p> </p><p>Hongjoong sets the chess piece down on Mars’ desk with a thud, smiling ear to ear.</p><p>“He did it!” he says, making Mars wince at the sudden volume of his voice. Mars swipes the pawn from the table before him and gets to his feet as Hongjoong starts to gush. “I showed it to him like I thought you wanted me to and tried to change it myself pretending like it was some cheap slight of hand or something and he took it from me-”</p><p>“I know, Mercury.”</p><p>The name itself is enough to cut through his excited ranting, but then Hongjoong stops, and notices for the first time that Mars’ eyes are a little wider than normal, and he’s still staring down at the pawn in his palm. </p><p>“You do?”</p><p>“It was me that did the trick.” The pawn vanishes as Seonghwa flicks his wrist, reappearing on the desk behind them. There’s a dreamlike, tinny quality to Mars’ clear voice as he continues. “I was only there for a moment. Only long enough for us to change it, but it was me. I woke up There. I saw you.”</p><p>“You were there? In the garden?”</p><p>Mars nods, and they gape at each other, both of them stunned silent by the realisation. Then Hongjoong breaks into a fit of laughter, and grabs Mars, who stumbles into his embrace with a wide grin of his own.</p><p>“We did it!” Hongjoong cries.</p><p>Mars, laughing breathlessly, pushes him away. “Only for a second,” he reminds him, trying to calm his excitement, lest it become disappointment, and Hongjoong nods, reigning himself back in.</p><p>“Right. We need it to be for longer.”</p><p>“It wasn’t as if I was in control,” Mars muses. “But it didn’t feel like I was just a voice in the back of his mind, either. It felt more like....coexisting.” He says it so delicately, as if the word itself were a breakable thing, that might shatter on his tongue as he speaks it, and Hongjoon’s stomach twists nervously, thinking he’d misunderstood something.</p><p>But it might not be a bad thing. He remembers the times he’d managed impossible things, sending Mars back to the other world, feeling red thread tangle around his fingers, and how he’d did it, how he’d tried to turn the chess piece into something else in Seonghwa’s garden. The voice in the back of his mind has a name, and had washed over him more completely when he’d pulled tricks of his own. Maybe that’s what Seonghwa had done in the garden, called up Mars to do the thing he couldn’t, without knowing what he was doing. That’s why Mars hadn’t taken over completely, because they’d been working together. This is what they’d wanted. </p><p>“We should celebrate,” Hongjoong says. Mars surprises him by not being immediately averse to the idea, a spark behind his eyes as he settles back against his desk.</p><p>“What did you have in mind?” he asks curiously.</p><p>Hongjoong glances around the empty tent. “Where are San and Wooyoung?”</p><p>“Resting.” Some of the good humour goes out of Mars’ expression, his fingertips strumming a worried rhythm on the desktop. “It’s difficult for them to be in this world without me, and I’ve been giving so much time to Seonghwa…”</p><p>“They can come with you,” Hongjoong says gently. “You know that, don’t you?”</p><p>“Yes, Mercury,” Mars breathes, voice soft, not without a sharper, teasing edge. “I know that.”</p><p>Again, the name sparks across his skin, cold and familiar, and Hongjoong shivers. Mars laughs, like he knows just what he’s doing.</p><p>“You’ve never called me Hongjoong.”  It had taken so many visits for Mars to give him any kind of name- even after Hongjoong had discovered his Here name, Mars had kept it locked up from him, never using it, until Hongjoong had asked him.</p><p>Mars lifts a shoulder in a lazy shrug. “That’s not who you are here.”</p><p>
  <em> Something that starts with an M. </em>
</p><p>“Seonghwa almost remembered my name today,” he says, knowing Mars must already be aware, but wanting to say it anyway.</p><p>“Yours before mine,” Mars mutters. There’s a petulant pout to his lips that reminds Hongjoong of how childish he can be, and reminds him of Seonghwa’s bubbling, excited laugh in the garden. Mars is a definitively more gloomy child than Seonghwa, but Hongjoong wants to coo all the same. “He’s more interested in you than me, it seems.”</p><p>Sensing the real annoyance in Mars' words, Hongjoong crosses his arms, matching Mars' petulant attitude exaggeratedly. “You don’t want him to be interested in me?”</p><p>Mars’ lips quirk into a dry smile. “I don’t remember saying that.”</p><p>“No?” Hongjoong steps closer, feeling the tingling sensation of sparks flitting across his skin, as he always does when he’s close to Mars. The tent isn’t as dreadfully cold as it had been the last time he’d visited, and now Mars looks almost exactly like he’d looked the first time Hongjoong had spotted him across too-bright grass, pale and cold, but not ghostly. The icy blue of his eyes is bright even in the dim, red-tinted light of the tent.</p><p>“Then maybe I could suggest a way to celebrate without Wooyoung and San.”</p><p>Mars chuckles, low in his chest. “I don’t doubt you could,” he sighs, letting Hongjoong entwine their fingers together, smiling softly as he looks down at their hands. “But I shouldn’t spend too much time here. I shouldn’t keep Seonghwa from his rest.”</p><p>Hongjoong knows he’s right, but he can’t help but grumble.</p><p>“When did you get so reasonable?”</p><p>Mars shivers jokingly. “Never call me that again,” he says, but there’s a smile on his lips, and he’s looking at Hongjoong intently. He brushes over Hongjoon’s wrist with his free hand, and as he pulls his hand away, there’s the thread, a crimson, twisting line twining around Hongjoong’s wrist and up to his fingers, twirling around Mars’ fingers too. Hongjoong stares at it, feels the cold of it seep through his skin, and misses the way Mars’ soft smile twists into a sly smirk. Suddenly, Mars tugs his hand toward his own chest, and Hongjoong stumbles, pulled forward. Mars catches him under the chin, cupping his face. Hongjoong freezes-</p><p>and then he’s staring up at his ceiling, in the quiet of his bedroom, with the sound of Mars’ laughter still ringing in his ears.  </p>
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<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Out Of Orbit</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>The fifth time Hongjoong meets Seonghwa, Venus kicks them out of the garden. The magic trick last week had seemed to warm Seonghwa to him, and though the other two meetings had been trick-free, Hongjoong worrying always about overwhelming Seonghwa, he’d made sure to wear red shirts, just to make Seonghwa laugh. It’s strangely like being an imitation of Mars, someone else’s Mars, but it makes Hongjoong feel closer to the world he’s been away from, almost a week now, since Mars had sent him away. </p><p>Seonghwa is practically glowing, energetic and far friendlier than his first impression had suggested, so much so that Hongjoong wonders whether he’d always be like this, if he weren’t so tired, if he weren’t split down the middle. To Hongjoong he seems more like Mars by the day, though still more grounded, practical, not as challenging. Even as Hongjoong feels there’s something missing, without Mars to trick him, he can feel himself slipping into the same enamour with Seonghwa that he has with Mars, far too quickly, and though he still focuses all of his efforts on reuniting the two halves, he’s happy too, today, as he leads the way out of the garden and hears Seonghwa skip after him.</p><p>He can feel himself pulled in one direction, and lets his feet carry him to the school, directly to the bench where he’d first spotted Seonghwa, on the boundary of the park, a few lonely cars rattling slowly by them as they sit.</p><p>“You really noticed me from all the way over there?” Seonghwa wonders, squinting across the road at the closed gates of Hongjoong’s college.</p><p>Hongjoong remembers the spike of confusion and excitement he'd felt when he'd spotted who he thought was Mars on the bench. “You were hard not to notice.”</p><p>Seonghwa smiles at that, a small, secretive smile. Hongjoong wants to confess the whole thing, why, exactly, he’d spotted him so quickly, but he knows he can’t. Besides, Seonghwa misunderstanding- only slightly- and looking so pleased is hardly a bad thing.</p><p>They talk for a while, on things Hongjoong barely remembers afterwards, losing themselves in the sunshine and the calm, sometimes sitting easily in silence, sometimes laughing. Hongjoong asks, once, about Seonghwa’s own school, whether he’s enrolled in a college somewhere, because they must be the same age, and he’d never seen him around campus, but finds the questions turn up blanks. Seonghwa’s thoughts seem to turn away from them, the block in his memory not allowing him to consider any detail of his past that could lead him to confusion. Hongjoong supposes it’s for the best. It must be better not to know how much time had been stolen from him, because of the split, when Mars had lived instead of him. </p><p>Two days later, Hongjoong wakes with something loosely in his grip, another gift Mars had left for him. This time, it’s a familiar white glass marble, cool against his palm, and Hongjoong smiles down at it, rolling it around his hand, remembering his irritation that day in Mars’ tent when it had been used to cheat Hongjoong out of winning another one of their games. How happy he’d be now, if Mars were here to play that trick on him again. </p><p>He gets dressed, in a hurry, too busy imagining playing the same trick on Seonghwa to notice the repetitive, high-pitched din just at the edge of his consciousness. He grabs the marble from the bed and straightens, and there the noise is again. A doorbell- his doorbell. </p><p>Hongjoong, suddenly understanding the noise, throws himself down the stairs and tears open his front door, coming face to face with a wild-eyed Mingi, who jolts at his sudden appearance.</p><p>“Sorry,” Hongjoong wheezes. “I was in the shower. Couldn't hear the bell.”</p><p>“It’s...It’s fine." Mingi's eyes slide over every inch of his face. "I was just-hoping we could talk, is all.”</p><p>“Talk?” Hongjoong echoes blankly.</p><p>“Yeah, talk, Hongjoong, I haven’t saw you in weeks.”</p><p>
  <em> Weeks? Has it really been that long? </em>
</p><p>Hongjoong fumbles for something to say and realises he has no way to justify the distance between them. It’s his fault, he knows, all his fault, but he can’t explain. “I’ve-I’ve been dealing with some stuff-”</p><p>“Is it something I did?” Mingi asks suddenly.</p><p>“What? No, of course not-”</p><p>“Then what is it? Why can’t you just talk to me?”</p><p>
  <em> Because there are worlds and worlds between us. Because I don’t know what might happen if I told you any of it. I wouldn’t even know how to start. </em>
</p><p>Mingi wouldn’t believe him. As much as he loves him, loves how laid back he is, how fun and loving and supportive, idolises every part of him, Hongjoong knows his best friend. Mingi would never believe any of it. A while ago, neither would Hongjoong. This isn’t something Hongjoong can show him, either, not without risking everything he’s been trying to achieve with Seonghwa. He can’t betray Mars like that, not when someone’s <em> finally </em>on his side.</p><p>And he can’t risk hurting Mingi, either. He’d seen what happened to Yeosang. He wouldn’t wish it on anyone. Least of all Mingi.</p><p>“I don’t- I can’t tell you, Mingi.”</p><p>There’s never been anything between them before. Nothing like this. Hongjoong has never said anything like this before. It's such a ridiculous thing to say, he can practically hear the cogs in Mingi's mind spinning, trying to figure out how he could have misheard something.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>Miserably, Hongjoong shakes his head. “You wouldn’t believe me anyway.”</p><p>“How do you know that?” Mingi’s voice is rising, but it’s desperation, not anger, that colors his words. “How do you know that if you won’t give me a chance?”</p><p>“It isn’t up to me Mingi, <em> really </em> I <em> can’t</em>.”</p><p>Mingi stares at him, brows drawn together. More than confusion, hurt overcomes his expression, and Hongjoong’s heart wrenches in his chest, knowing he’s the one who put it there, knowing he can’t take it away. His own vision swims, and Mingi’s eyes look suspiciously shiny too, as they catch the light.</p><p>He shakes his head, frown deepening as he sees his own sadness reflected back at him in Hongjoong’s expression. His voice is small, in a way that it has never been before. “I don’t understand, Joong.”</p><p>Hongjoong sees in him the older version of himself, the overwhelmed, sleep-deprived confusion that had filled him to bursting every time he'd been refused any kind of explanation, from Mars and Venus and Yeosang. Is this what he had looked like, to them? Had they felt something like this, knowing they couldn't answer him?</p><p>“I know. I’m sorry, really I am. Please believe me.”</p><p>The distance grows between them as Mingi takes a step back. Another follows, as he shakes his head, staring at Hongjoong until the last, as if willing him to follow, to apologies and explain everything and beg for forgiveness, but Hongjoong just stands there, in the shade of his doorway, and watches him go.</p><p>Then he sighs, and closes the front door behind him. The marble is cool against his fingertips as he puts a hand in the pocket of his jacket, half expecting it to be gone. He clings to it all the way to school, where Seonghwa waits for him, sitting at their bench.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Unexpected Tricks</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>“There’s nothing strange about the marble,” Hongjoong laughs, seeing Seonghwa’s dubious expression as he eyes the glassy object Hongjoong’s holding up in the middle of his palm. “I promise. Just a normal marble.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing about you seems normal, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa says, drily amused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I'm going to assume that was meant as a compliment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take it however you want,” Seonghwa returns, but he’s smiling. He shuffles, as Hongjoong reaches for the satchel he’d dropped by the bench and sets it between them. “There’s more?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hongjoong nods, and Seonghwa laughs an incredulous kind of laugh as he pulls out three paper cups from his bag and sets it down on the asphalt again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Really?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said you’d humour me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, alright,” Seonghwa relents. “On with your magic trick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With the cups in one hand and the marble in the other, Hongjoong settles onto the sidewalk. It’s early, for a weekend, and the streets are empty except for the rare, slow car driving past them. Seonghwa slides from the bench, too, cross legged on the asphalt across from Hongjoong, who places the cups down between them, a weak paper wall that Seonghwa rolls his eyes at.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I remember telling you I don’t like games,” he says, as Hongjoong places the marble under the leftmost cup, not sounding as annoyed as someone sitting on the sidewalk as an almost-stranger forces him to watch terrible magic tricks might be, and Hongjoong smiles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a short game. I’m sure you’ll live.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seonghwa grumbles, but with the way he’s waiting so patiently for whatever it is Hongjoong plans to do, it’s not entirely convincing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright. You just need to tell me where the-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know how it works, Hongjoong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hiding a smile, Hongjoong begins to shuffle the cups around, clumsily, lacking the almost unearthly grace of Wooyoung’s practised movements, nearly upending one of the cups and giving away the position of the marble before he’s finished. Seonghwa waits patiently, far more patiently than Mars would ever wait, and then stares down at the cups as Hongjoong sits back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He taps on the middle cup, and Hongjoong lifts it up to reveal the marble beneath it with a grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Voila,” he cries, throwing the marble in the air for Seonghwa to catch. “One point to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know why you insist on playing this,” Seonghwa mutters, but he sets the marble down on the asphalt anyway, and starts moving the cups in lazy circles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hongjoong watches the slow motion carefully, expecting- hoping- to be wrong when he selects the obvious cup and waits for Seonghwa to reveal the marble. But there had been no tricks, just movements even clumsier than his own, and Seonghwa hadn’t managed to divert him, so he earns himself a point and swallows his disappointment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s the trick?” Seonghwa wonders aloud, as Hongjoong shuffles the cups again, narrowing his eyes. Hongjoong just smiles at his curiousity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t remember.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Laughing, Seonghwa shakes his head. “You’re using the same excuse twice?” he asks, exasperated. “Why don’t you just show me the trick now and I’ll pretend to be surprised?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hongjoong raises a brow. “What makes you think it wouldn’t surprise you for real?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cups stop their spinning, and Seonghwa tilts his head, having lost track of the marble during their conversation. “Surely you’ll have to run out of tricks eventually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He selects a cup at random, trying not to look pleased when Hongjoong lifts the other two and finds no marble under either. He'd gotten it right, despite his momentary distraction. But then he raises the final cup, and there’s no marble under that one, either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cheater,” Seonghwa laughs. It had been confusing, at first, for Hongjoong to see his complete lack of competitiveness, after knowing Mars, and he still can't tell whether he finds it endearing or frustrating. “Where is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hongjoong unfurls his palm and shows the marble had been in his hand all along. It had been a trick unfit for even the usual carnival magician, and if Mars had been here to see it Hongjoong is sure he’d have something scathing to say about it, but Seonghwa just rolls his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That can’t be the trick you wanted to show me. There must be something else you're keeping from me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Setting the marble back onto the top of a cup, Hongjoong shrugs. “Maybe there is,” he says. “Maybe there isn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seonghwa sighs and sweeps the marble up into his hands, cupping one over the other. “Do I do this?” he asks, shaking his hands like a bartender mixing a drink. “Is it just the same trick, different material?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hongjoong smirks and watches him joking. “I don’t know what trick you expect to happen just by shaking a marble,” he says wryly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unbothered, Seonghwa replies mildly, “You’re the magician, not me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some darker part of Hongjoong wants to laugh at that, at the ridiculousness of it, to think that of the two of them he is the one with all of the tricks, but he doesn’t let himself. His stomach twists uncomfortably as a cold wind blows across the street, but nothing happens as Seonghwa sets the marble secretively inside the middle cup, not letting Hongjoong see it, and starts playing again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s a little faster this time, but the marble obviously stays in the cup he’d placed it under, without the skill to pass it between cups quick enough to confuse Hongjoong. Hongjoong selects the cup closest to him and wishes he won’t see the marble underneath it, but of course, even wishing, he knows he’s right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He is- the marble sits right where he knew it would be, rolling slightly on the uneven sidewalk as Seonghwa lifts the cup away. Only now it’s red. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hongjoong snatches it greedily from the asphalt, fast enough for Seonghwa to gasp and lean away, surprised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s red.” He shows the marble to Seonghwa, who frowns in confusion, unsure what he should be seeing. “It used to be white, now it’s red.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh." <em>How hadn't he noticed that?</em> He'd thought the marble had always been red, until Hongjoong had reminded him. It <em>had </em>been white, hadn't it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span> "Is that...not supposed to happen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hongjoong can feel Seonghwa’s eyes on him, as he holds the marble up to the sunlight, studying him closely like he's trying to figure out whether Hongjoong is acting, whether this is just another part of the trick. But it’s not- the excitement and confusion warring in Hongjoong’s gut is very real as he stares at the dyed glass, where the white has been completely transformed into a swirling red pattern, a darker, wine shade curling across crimson.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you going to tell me I did that too?” Seonghwa asks, and though it had clearly been meant as a sarcastic comment, there’s a slight tremor in his voice that makes Hongjoong look up at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s pale. Not Mars pale, not quite, but a sickly kind of pale, a drastic change to the warm gold of his skin moments ago, and he runs a hand through his hair and Hongjoong sees his hands are shaking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seonghwa? Are you-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine. I think. For a second there I…” he blinks, clearing his vision, and just as Hongjoong begins to think he’d forgotten what he’d been trying to say, finishes- “didn’t feel like myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe we should get you back to V-Yunho.” Seonghwa blinks at him, and Hongjoong curses himself for the slip. Urgently, he pulls himself to his feet, holding a hand out to pull Seonghwa to his feet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other boy breathes deep, for a moment, before accepting his help. When their fingers touch a chill runs all the way from Hongjoong’s fingertips to his shoulder. He shivers, and Seonghwa drops his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just- give me a second.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He manoeuvres himself onto the bench, slowly, moving as if he has been weighed down, his eyes still too wide and a little distant as he catches his bearings. Hongjoong hovers by the bench, uncertain. He’d tried to push Seonghwa too far too quickly, and now they’re away from the garden, and the only people that might know enough to help him. Seonghwa’s staring at one spot on the sidewalk in front of him, willing the floor to stop swaying beneath him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seonghwa-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Joong!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s another voice, calling to them from the park, and Hongjoong turns to look behind him just as a tall figure steps out of a shadow and comes into view.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mingi? What are you doing here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His friend steps up to the bench, slightly out of breath, a deep frown etched sharply into his usually sunny features. “I wanted to talk to you.” His eyes swivel around them, and land on Seonghwa. “I wanted to know what you’d been doing without me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You </span>
  <em>
    <span>followed </span>
  </em>
  <span>me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What other choice did I have?” Mingi asks, throwing up his hands. “You never tell me anything anymore!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Seonghwa sniffles. “Hongjoong-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s this?” Mingi demands, cutting over Seonghwa’s quiet voice easily, glaring down at the boy curling up on himself on the bench in a way Hongjoong had never saw Mingi look at anyone. Alarm bells ring at the back of Hongjoong's mind, a protective instinct coming to life at the sight of Mingi's glare.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even knowing it’s a lie, he says the first thing that comes to mind. “I can explain-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mingi scoffs. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Now </span>
  </em>
  <span>you can explain?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you lower your voice? You’re scaring him. And you're not acting like yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mingi scoffs at him, looking between them with the same ugly scowl, speechless for a moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bench creaks as Seonghwa leans towards them. “Hongjoong-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mingi turns on him, snarling, “Stay out of this, would you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t talk like that,” Hongjoong tells him, struggling to keep his own volume down. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“<em>Mercury</em>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hongjoong spins to look over his shoulder. He sees Seonghwa’s wide eyes, sees the arm outstretched towards him, and has just enough time to recognise the difference in Seonghwa’s expression before Mingi grabs him by the elbow. It’s Mars’ expression, Mars’ features, slyer and clever and not as bright as Seonghwa’s, all of the sickness gone, and Hongjoong realises this just as Mingi’s grip closes on his arm, tight enough to restrict the bloodflow, and he’s suddenly ripped through the air. He comes to in front of a door, Mingi by his side, the park nowhere in sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mingi doesn’t look at him as he raises a hand to the door and lays a palm flat against the wood, ignoring the doorbell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Recovering quickly from his shock, because he’d been tossed around so often by now that the sudden sensation of being ripped through the air from one place to another against his will is now alarmingly familiar, Hongjoong turns a glares on him. There’s a stubborn set to Mingi’s jaw, the only sign of emotion in an otherwise blank expression, as the door swings open. Venus is on the other side, frowning, but as he lowers his gaze and sees who is on his doorstop, he freezes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing here?” he asks, and Hongjoong looks up to see the ghosts’ eyes aren’t on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would like to come in,” Mingi says, and though it’s his voice, there’s an awful, unnatural quality to it that makes Hongjoong shiver, as if Mingi were a toy imitating a human voice, repeating a recording back in strange tinny tones that don't sound quite right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mingi, how do you even know about-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Venus speaks before he can finish his question. “That isn’t your friend, Hongjoong. I think you’d better come inside.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Forget Me Not</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>Hongjoong has learned to stop questioning the impossible. He knows by now that what is impossible to him is very different to what is impossible to the people around him, and he lets Venus pull him into the empty living room, lingering close to the ghost as Mingi follows with robotic movements. What a strange sight this must be, he thinks, as Mingi stands a few paces away and he stays close by Yunho’s side. He used to be so averse to even the mention of the other boy, and now he’s avoiding Mingi, and trusting Venus instead.</p><p>He supposes that’s not entirely fair. Mingi isn’t himself.</p><p>It’s obvious now, looking across at him in the living room dimness, the wall of windows leading to the garden shining light on one side of his face. There’s a darkness lingering around his features, shadow where there shouldn’t be shadow, his eyes darker, deeper, the lines of his mouth more extreme than Hongjoong remembers them being.</p><p>“What’s going on? Where’s Mingi?”</p><p>Venus doesn’t look at him. It’s easier to imagine him as a ghost, now, in the dimness, when his skin is so pale it’s almost translucent.  “Someone else is in charge right now,” he says, eyeing the boy waiting patiently for them to stop talking.</p><p>“Who?”</p><p>“Let’s just describe them as the closest thing I have to a very strict boss.”</p><p>The people Hongjoong had been warned about, the ones who make the rules. </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Venus and Saturn must seem invincible, from where you’re standing, but even they have people to answer to.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Someone already angry enough with me that it’s best not to irritate them further,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Venus had said.</span>
</p><p>So this is the person that had erased every memory of Yeosang’s stories, that had punished Venus into remaining in a world that doesn’t belong to him. </p><p>“It took you longer this time,” Venus says, his voice not quite as careless and assured as Hongjoong usually hears it, but not cowering. “I was beginning to wonder whether you’d just let us be.”</p><p>“A repeated offence is worse than an accidental slip,” not-Mingi says, sounding bored. “You know the rules.”</p><p>“I don’t,” Hongjoong says. He can feel Venus’ eyes on the back of his head, and even he himself is surprised to find himself speaking, as if he belongs in this conversation, as if he could in any way understand what might happen next. But he’s angry, angrier than he’s been in a long time, at this faceless creature using his friend, intruding and ruining all of the progress they’d been making. “No one bothered explaining that part to me, actually.”</p><p>The idea of Seonghwa alone somewhere, now Hongjoong had been taken here, is always at the back of his mind, and his worry turns into something darker, fuelling his anger.</p><p>The answer he receives is in the same bored tone. “You’re not supposed to know the rules. You’re not supposed to know anything.”</p><p>“I’m not hurting anyone,” he counters. “What rule could I be breaking in helping someone?”</p><p>“Worlds aren't supposed to collide.” It sounds like a mantra, more mechanical than the other words the creature had shaped on Mingi’s tongue, the sound of it even less like Mingi’s voice as he speaks it. “You’ve felt the effects of it yourself.”</p><p>The exhaustion and the confusion had been hard to bare, but he’d bared them.</p><p>“I’m fine. I haven’t felt that way in a long time.”</p><p>“You can’t belong There.”</p><p>“So you’re going to do whatever it was you did to Yeosang again? Make everyone forget me? I haven’t <em>told</em> anyone anything." His words are tainted with the desperation he'd felt that morning, at his own house and then the park, when he'd refused Mingi so much, and he realises something. He knew it had been strange for Mingi to appear out of nowhere, knew he wouldn't have just followed him around until he saw Seonghwa. It was like someone had placed him there, like a prop, like an extra in a movie. Like the idea to confront Hongjoong again hadn't entirely been his.</p><p>"You were testing me, weren’t you? You heard everything I said to Mingi, I wouldn’t tell him. I won’t.”</p><p>Venus talks before there can be an argument, looking around the room frantically, just noticing what he’d been blind to in his panic. “Hongjoong, where’s Seonghwa?”</p><p>“We left him at the park.”</p><p>Mingi doesn’t try to stop Venus from leaving- one moment there’s someone standing by Hongjoong’s side, the next there’s empty air. His courage goes out of him a little, when it’s just him and Mingi in the room, but it lasts only a second before his ears pop, and two figures appear just as seamlessly, one supporting the other as they fall onto a couch.</p><p>“Seonghwa!”</p><p>The boy shivering on the couch looks up at him as Hongjoong charges over, dropping to his knees, but he manages a grin.</p><p>“Try again,” Mars says. There’s a thin sheen of sweat across his face, and Seonghwa’s golden skin is almost green in the dimness, a sickly shade, but it’s Mars’ voice, Mars’ expressions. The first time he's stayed around long enough to take over, and this is what it does to him.</p><p>“This is what happens when the rules are broken,” an empty voice says behind them, as if he'd read Hongjoong's mind, and Mars gives something like a strangled laugh and dissolves into a coughing fit.</p><p>“What do we do?” Hongjoong asks, and Venus’s eyes are wide as they stare back at him.</p><p>“There’s nothing we <em> can </em>do, Hongjoong, if his body can’t bare it, it’ll shut down.”</p><p>“<em>What?” </em></p><p>That can’t happen. Not with all the work they’d been doing, not when Seonghwa had been starting to remember, to reclaim some of the other side of him, not when Mars had finally been able to step back into this world.</p><p>“This is what happens to travellers,” Mingi’s saying, as Hongjoong hovers uselessly over Mars, clutching a cold hand in his own and feeling ice wrap around his arm.</p><p>Mars recovers some of his composure, his coughing fading, settling back into the sofa with exhaustion plain on his face, his clever eyes heavy. His voice is coarse, as if his throat is full of sand, as he says, “I’d like to make a deal.”</p><p>Where Hongjoong had expected a rebuttal, even cruel laughter, there’s silence. Venus looks as if he’d been struck across the face, and Mingi behind them quietens, considering it.</p><p>“What are your conditions?”</p><p>Mars answers immediately. Hongjoong can’t help but wonder how often he must have turned this possibility over in his mind, knowing what he’d have to give up if they were caught too soon.</p><p>“I won’t travel. Hongjoong won’t, either. Break the connection back for all I care, we won’t go There.”</p><p>Venus grabs Mars’ shoulder with enough force to draw out another round of wheezing coughs. “You don’t know what you’re giving up.”</p><p>“Only half of me belongs there anyway.”</p><p>Hongjoong’s voice is barely audible over coughing, uncertain and small. “Mars-”</p><p>A pained look crosses quickly over Mars’ face, and then he straightens, the massive effort of pulling himself together clear in his expression, his brows drawn down, his jaw clenched. “I know what I’m doing. This is for Seonghwa as well as Mercury. This way he won’t have to fight me.”</p><p>“But you can’t just stop-”</p><p>“This is what we wanted, Venus. I don’t know whether Seonghwa will be able to take being together, but I know I can.” Venus still looks like he wants to argue, but Mars just shrugs. “It’s all I’ve got.”</p><p>In the silence that follows, Mingi, the only one not staring at Mars as if he’d lost his mind, asks mildly- “What are we betting on?”</p><p>“Hongjoong’s memories.”</p><p>“You want him to remember? How much?”</p><p>“Everything,” Mars says stubbornly. </p><p>“Humans don’t remember,” Venus says. There’s a begging note to his voice, a desperation Hongjoong is stunned to realise is for himself. Maybe Venus sees Yeosang in him, sometimes. Maybe he wants Hongjoong to have what they can never. “Hongjoong does. He has a claim to every memory he has of Mars’ world, just as Mars does.”</p><p>“He would if he belonged there.”</p><p>“He <em> does </em>,” Mars says fiercely. As he speaks, Hongjoong can see his lips have been coated with scarlet, and the cough that the ferocity of his voice causes sounds wet with blood.“Hasn’t he already proven that by now?” </p><p>Venus’ voice cuts suddenly through the argument. “Do you remember Yeosang?” </p><p>Stunned at the sudden question, Hongjoong nods his head mutely, then frowns. “Of course I do. You know I do, you’ve saw us together.”</p><p>“You remember what he told you,” Venus clarifies, his gaze intent as it captures Hongjoong. A smile has started at his lips, a knowing, victorious kind of smile. “About me. About where he’d been.”</p><p>It had taken him so long, but Yeosang’s urgent voice had been coming back to him, in fragments, in snatches of their old conversations he’d been made to forget. “I’m starting to.”</p><p>Mingi sighs, the first almost human thing he’d done since they’d arrived here together. “That’s not possible,” he says. “I put the block there myself.”</p><p>“And yet Hongjoong still begins to remember,” Venus argues. “How many times has he found his way into another world? How many times has he learned his other name, had Maker Days of his own?”</p><p>
  <em> What? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Once. He’d only learned his name once. What’s Venus playing at?</em>
</p><p>“He doesn’t remember yet, but he will. He isn’t like the others anymore.”</p><p>“Doesn’t remember what?" Hongjoong asks, looking around the room. Venus doesn't meet his eye. "What are you talking about?”</p><p>It's Mars that answers, his voice still haggard. “All of the other times you knew me.”</p><p>“I told you they were taking their time this time, didn’t I?" Venus adds. "They’re usually quicker in making people forget.”</p><p>“I- but I can remember-”</p><p>“Not everything,” Mars says quietly. “Not yet.”</p><p>“You’re all wasting my time,” Mingi grumbles. Though his irritation at least makes him sound more human, the darkness around his features deepens with it, growing just like the mark across Mars’ eye had when he’d started losing control.</p><p>“If Hongjoong can remember Yeosang despite the block you created in his memory, he isn’t like them, he’s like us," Venus argues. "He belongs in the other worlds. Even taking his memories, you’d never be able to ensure he forgot them at all. He always finds his way back to Mars eventually.”</p><p>Something clicks.</p><p>Hongjoong blocks out the bickering of Venus and the creature using Mingi’s voice, crouching by the sofa again, seeing Mars’ eyes flicker to his.</p><p>“How many times have we met, Mars?”</p><p>Mars raises a brow, still conscious enough to make things difficult for him. “You think I’ve been keeping count?” he asks, even though he knows what Hongjoong’s really asking.</p><p>“How many times have we met, for the first time?”</p><p>The conversation behind them silences as Venus and Mingi realise what they’re talking about. Mars stares at Hongjoong’s face, gaze flickering over his expression, ignoring the others in the room. “Twice,” he admits softly. “You found me twice.”</p><p>“What happened the first time?”</p><p>“I told you everything you wanted to know.” Mars smiles, wryly, as if he thinks it’s funny, that every answer Hongjoong had begged him for had already been given so freely the first time, but his voice is cold as he adds, “You forget it all. You weren’t supposed to find me again. You shouldn't have.”</p><p>Mercury whispers in the back of his mind, familiar words, the first thing Mars had said in front of him.</p><p><em>What’s he doing back already? </em> </p><p>He remembers Mars asking him how many times he’d been to his world.</p><p><em> Twice, </em> Hongjoong had said. <em> This is the third time</em>. How Mars had repeated his words back to him, mulling them over, as if deciding how to act, not telling him whether he’d gotten the number right. </p><p>He sees everything from a new perspective now. Mars subtle hints about his name, the silver waterfall of the mirror, never saying the name himself. It’s exactly what they’d been trying to do with Seonghwa, refreshing his memory without overloading him with information too quickly.</p><p>And then, later, how quickly he’d found his There name. Mars hadn’t told him in this life, hadn’t dared say it aloud until Hongjoong knew it for himself, but perhaps he had it another. Some deeper part of Hongjoong must have remembered his naming.</p><p>Hongjoong had forgotten Mars, and found his way back. Mars had been the only one to remember their meeting, and hadn’t expected to see him again. He’d acted as if they were strangers, just meeting for the first time, and slowly helped Hongjoong remember him, just as they’d been trying to do with Seonghwa.</p><p>“So then everyone- everyone remembered me? You were all pretending?”</p><p>Mars shakes his head gently. “Wooyoung and San didn’t remember. They’re not like us. They can be made to forget, just like- well, just like I thought you had.”</p><p>“Which proves that Hongjoong deserves to remember,” Venus explains, talking loudly, to the room. “He belongs there just as Mars does.”</p><p>Mingi crosses his arms and considers them all with a blank expression. “If I were to accept the bargain you’ve extended me, Hongjoong would not be able to return There again.”</p><p>Mars and Venus look at him, expectant, but Hongjoong’s already nodding.</p><p>“I’d accept the consequences.”</p><p>“And what’s <em> your </em> price?” Mingi mutters.</p><p>“Just let me remember,” Hongjoong says. Mars coughs by his side, and he adds, “And help him, if you can.”</p><p>“If you tell anyone about the things you’ve seen, the deal will be broken,” Mingi warns, but it sounds so much like acceptance that Hongjong nods desperately, not entirely hearing it, agreeing anyway.</p><p>The room is tense and silent. Mingi glares as they all stare at him, and grumbles, uncrossing his arms petulantly and stepping forward.</p><p>“Very well.”</p><p>He couldn’t sound more annoyed by the acceptance, but none of them can find it in themselves to care, as he grazes his fingers across Mars’ neck, and the colour returns to his cheeks. He’s weak, and Hongjoong doesn’t know what might happen to him once Seonghwa regains some control, but his eyes aren’t as sunken, the tremors in his hands not as extreme.</p><p>“Thank you,” Hongjoong offers, knowing it won’t be appreciated, knowing it’s not enough.</p><p>Mingi glares. “I only agreed because you’d remember anyway. If you make trouble again, someone <em> else </em> can deal with you.” He turns away, with finality, but then looks back at Hongjoong pointedly. “He won’t remember any of this,” he says, indicating Mingi’s body. “He’s not to know.”</p><p>“I won’t tell him.” He’ll think of something. He’ll be better to him. In time, maybe Mingi could forgive him.</p><p>Hongjoong’s ears pop. Mingi slumps onto the floorboards, eyes closed, breathing deeply. Venus releases a long, shaky breath. Hongjoong laughs.</p><p> Mars gives him a wide, victorious grin.</p><p> </p><p>**</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mars and Seonghwa were whole again. Somedays, he’d be calm, warm, others sly, and Hongjoong would always be able to pick apart the influences of both parts of the boy as they presented themselves, but for the most part, he was both. He had Seonghwa’s caring, Mars’ freeness. Wooyoung and San would sit with him in the garden, looking at him strangely once or twice, seeing the change in him but unable to recognise it with the blocks in their minds, slowly coming back to themselves. It was a difficult few weeks, after the bargain had been struck. They were all stuck in limbo, uncertain of the new version of themselves. Hongjoong was sometimes Hongjoong, sometimes Mercury. He remembers, in fragments, the memories that had been taken from him, as does Seonghwa. </span>
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  <span>Seonghwa slept a lot, as he recovered. He didn't dream. San stared into space, watching Saturn's bumblebees buzz around the flowers. Wooyoung was quiet, worse. But they were together, and with every day, Hongjoong could see the faintest slither of progress, as they acclimatised. He chatted with San in the garden, walked around town with Wooyoung, stayed up with Seonghwa, when his exhaustion ended, and Mars’ curiosity returned. They’d talk for hours about the world they’d left behind. Hongjoong would list red things for him to fall asleep to, and Mars would wake up with new games to share, to tease him with, to cheat at. They healed together, slowly, day by day.</span>
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